


The Penitent Man

by Background_Foxe



Series: God Knows [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, BDSM Switch Sam Winchester, Bickering, Bottom Dean Winchester, Discipline, Dom/sub Play, Flogging, M/M, Masturbation, Restraints, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest, Top Castiel (Supernatural), Top Gabriel (Supernatural), non-con elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:08:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 38,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26042449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Background_Foxe/pseuds/Background_Foxe
Summary: Submissives are disappearing after attending an exclusive ‘pop up’ BDSM club and their dominants suffering from significant physical trauma. With the investigation hitting a dead end, Sam and Dean decide on an attack from within by posing as submissives and persuade a bewildered Castiel to act as their dominant. Is it true that the club has supernatural ties, and will they manage to get out of the lion’s den belonging to the same angel they went in with?Part 2 of the series set roughly around fourth season, follows ‘All you need is love’ set up for established and slightly messed up Sam/Dean
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Series: God Knows [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1890439
Comments: 24
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that certain things have been twisted somewhat for plot/story purposes, whether that be folklore or kink. Occasionally this is literally. Either way, definitely not a manual on best practises :)

_“The penitent man will pass. The penitent man is humble before God. The penitent man… The penitent man is humble. Penitent man is humble… kneels before God. Kneel!”_ \- Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade

*

“Explain it again.”

There was a brief pause in the motel room as Sam gathered his thoughts. He readjusted his position against the wall, and glanced at Dean who was sitting on the end of the bed with an unreadable expression on his face. Well, not quite unreadable. It was either impatience or discomfort or possibly just confusion himself as he tried to join the dots in his head, but Dean wasn’t Sam’s main concern here. No, the main issue was the angel stood in the centre of the room, giving him a narrowed eyed suspicious look as though Sam had just suggested performing an acrobatic satanic act with baked beans and added llamas.

“It’s a job.” Sam started again. “You know there’s been several different reports of people vanishing along this part of the coast, and some of their partners have been found either dead or comatose. We’ve got a lead and we want to investigate.”

The frown found a whole new level of frown to achieve. “And you require my assistance to do this.”

“Yeah. We’ve tried the usual routes - police, FBI, hell, even an environment agency guy in one case - but no joy. We got a lead though. Looks like they all visited a particular club in the few days leading to the event. Can’t find any other links between them. No family, no acquaintances, don’t look like each other, and although this club has a more .. uh, unique take on life, there’s plenty of people in the lifestyle who _haven’t_ vanished. Whatever it is seems to be particular.”

“So we got ourselves a ticket to get into this event,” came Dean’s drawl from the bed. Castiel turned to study him briefly, and then turned back to Sam. The frown hadn’t improved.

“Could you not investigate this when the club is not occurring?” 

Sam gave a little shrug. “Not really. It’s one of those pop up ones.”

“Pop up.” repeated Castiel, and there was an element of bewilderment to his voice. “Like the children’s books regarding the three pigs and the aggressively persistent wolf with the blowing power?”

“He means they’re not permanent. They turn up for a short time in one location and then turn up a bit later on somewhere else. Bit like the circus, except with less elephants and clowns.” Dean hesitated. “Well, possibly a few clowns, people are weird.”

Castiel digested that for a moment and then folded his arms, looking at first Dean and then Sam again as though expecting logic.

“My apologies, but I am still not seeing why you require my assistance for this. If it is a social gathering then surely you can simply attend and make your investigations under cover of dark.”

And under any normal circumstance that would be a fine point. However, ‘normal’ was so hard to come by nowadays.

“Mmm,” Dean made a non-committed noise and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, giving Sam another look that blatantly stated that Dean was not planning to explain this one. Great. Sam folded his arms and took a moment to consider how to approach the topic in words that the angel would understand, and, ideally, not freak out about. This was harder than he’d imagined, and he had a damned good imagination.

“There are particular .. uh… social rules we need to follow in order to fit in with their usual customer base.” Sam said carefully. If angels were up for anything it was rules and social conditioning surely, and yet he was still aware of blue eyes surveying him with the careful look of one smelling a rat. Damnit. What happened to innocent until proven guilty?

“What is different about this club that neither of you want to simply describe what it is?”

“Told you.” Dean piped up from the bed, and Sam shot him a look. Sure, Dean had thrown mud at the idea for a while but he wasn’t really fooling anyone, and anyway, their options were relatively limited. Cas, with his solemness and his fondness for logical processes, seemed ideal. Of course getting him to the same page was a Biblical task by itself, and probably the one that had fire and brimstone attached to it.

“It’s a BDSM club. These engage in activities of bondage, dominance and sado-masochism, usually in a sexual relationship.” Sam decided to go for a matter of fact voice as though this topic was as standard as popping out to get the paper. The increased frown suggested that this had not only failed to work, it had added a few extra questions to the mix. “Hey, don’t make an immediate judgement here, just hear us out, okay?”

Castiel reviewed this request carefully.

“Very well,” he said slowly. “But I make no promises.”

“Deal.” Sam licked his lips and glanced at Dean for help, but his brother simply sent him a shrug back. Probably wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened, he wasn’t sure whether Cas was really ready for a Dean version of kink. Sighing inwardly, Sam tried to identify the best phrasing that might encourage an angel that it was the right thing to do rather than a steady slope to hell and Unsuitable Fornication. 

“Okay. So if I understand their sales pitch correctly, this club focuses more on the dominance, submission and discipline aspects, _which_ ” he added louder as Castiel looked like he was about to speak. “Are pretty much like a control hierarchy system. The people in the relationship decide who is in control and who isn’t, and then they follow the agreed rules. The dominant - the person in charge - takes their submissives - the one who follows - and then they … I don’t know, socialise with like minded people. Show them off, I guess. Generally, they discipline the submissive if they don’t follow orders but it’s pretty varied between people and what they’re looking to get out of it. Some people play, some people just go for the drinks and to see who’s around. It’s all a voluntary arrangement.”

“You mean you haven’t been to one of these things, Sammy?” came Dean’s amused voice.

Really? He was trying to sell a BDSM club visit to a damned _angel_ and that was the only help Dean was planning to give him? Sam could kill him sometimes. Well, at least mildly maim.

“I told you before, I know stuff but I haven’t exactly tried out all the flavours in the ice-cream shop.” Sam shot him another look that spoke very clearly of consequences if his darling brother pushed this line. If Dean carried on with that type of comment then Castiel’s opinion of Sam was probably going to hit rock bottom and dig for coal, and Sam was pretty sure it hadn’t started from a good position as it was.

Said angel was looking between them curiously, which wasn’t necessarily a yes but at least didn’t suggest he was going to be utterly scandalised. 

“I am not going to pretend to understand the circumstances, however this still seems to be a numbers game here. There are two of you, presumably one as rule giver and the other as rule follower. I, again, do not see how you need my assistance in your.. ,” there was a pause as Castiel tried to work out the most appropriate phrasing. “... venue of complicated ill repute.” 

“We want you to be our dominant.” Dean drawled from the bed. 

There was a long pause. Castiel frowned, although to be fair that could have been anything.

“The person in charge.” he replied, slowly.

“That’s right. The one holding the whip.” a flash of a cocky grin. “Literally.”

Bewildered blue eyes stared at Dean in the forlorn hope this might make sense.. “You wish for me to discipline you? I spend a lot of time making sure that you do _not_ end up beaten.”

“Not sure you succeeded on a few occasions,” Dean pointed out with a slight wince. Castiel looked unrepentant. 

“Perhaps not entirely bruise free,.” Castiel looked between them again before walking across to where Sam had shifted to the desk and pulled up some images on the laptop. A picture spoke a thousand words, and that saved him from trying to think of polite ways to describe things that the church tended to dislike.

There was a worryingly long pause before Castiel raised his head again and looked from one brother to the other as though checking this was not an elaborate and poorly thought out joke. Okay. Best to press on as though this was all perfectly normal.

“From what we’ve heard,” Sam said as casually as he could under the circumstances. “The submissives have more chance to walk around unchallenged in this place, and the dominants talk business together. If you have two of us, one can always be there to look attentive and … uh, pretty I guess… and the other-,”

“The other can be really nosey in places that shouldn’t concern them,” Dean added cheerfully. “Anyway, you have that whole strict demeanor thing going on. Just look stern and disapproving and tell us off a couple of times and it’ll be great. You won’t even need to act.”

“I see,” Castiel eyed the photographs again, and waited until Sam had flicked through a few more of various guises. “These submissives appear to be primarily naked.”

“It is a sex club.” Dean shrugged, undeterred. 

“Then you’re expecting us to engage in intercourse?” Castiel looked even more bewildered, an angel faced with circumstances that were probably well outside the usual job description. 

“No we’re not, and definitely not without buying me dinner first,” Dean waved this suggestion off with a hand. “Far as I can tell, the nudity is also part of the whole control thing. Following orders, available to your dominant, and, hell, showing off a bit.”

“Why is it important that you are already naked? I have witnessed your speed in undressing on prior occasions. Surely I could simply request the action should I need to demonstrate my power over you?” Castiel looked between them again.

“Because we’re pretty.” Dean gave him a winning smile. “I thought we’d covered this.”

“Agreed, but I am not certain that justification would hold up in a court.” Castiel sighed and paused to consider things further. “Fine. If there are rules, then is there some type of manual that I might read before the event?”

Was that a potential yes? Sam blinked and perked up. He’d assumed that Castiel would eventually turn to the ‘polite decline’ option, probably with the angel giving them funny looks for the rest of their probably short lifespans. 

“Well, yes, as it happens,” Sam grinned and began to fish out some of the paperwork he’d already printed off in an attempt to drum ‘proper behaviour’ into Dean before he got them all into trouble. “It’s not a manual as such, but it’s got some general social rules, best practises, hints and tips on consent, traditions, and so on. It looks more scary than it actually is.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily call it scary as perplexing.” Castiel took the offered print outs and glanced at the pages, flicking through them with increasing incredulousness. “It seems complex. I am beginning to understand why so many prayers focus on relationship issues.”

“Yeah, well. The complex situation tend to require the clearest instructions to avoid messy misunderstandings.” Sam gave Dean a glance, who responded with a little thumbs up gesture. Of course it was never that easy. Castiel flicked through the pages again carefully and then raised his head to aim a particularly dubious expression first at Sam and then at Dean. 

Dammit. Just when Sam had thought they’d convinced him. Perhaps they should have done this by prayer.

“What?” Dean spoke up.

“So I am to pose as this Dominant, with you both acting as my naked servants-,”

“Partly naked,” Dean interrupted. Castiel raised an eyebrow as a tiny shrug.

“-and I am to believe that you both will play the appropriate part? Forgive me, but your usual skill set does not often include the word ‘obedient’.”

Sam pursed his lips and glanced at Dean. Well, that was fair enough. They barely agreed in the middle of bloody life and death missions, let alone scouting. Still, they’d talked about it already and Sam was feeling mostly confident about the situation. How hard could it be? Keep a low profile, follow instructions, and look meek. Even Dean could achieve that, especially as Sam had promised him pie at the end of it. And then, of course, were their little sessions, fewer in number but still just as intensive. Once Dean got himself into the submissive mindset he was often a natural. Okay, getting him there could be a struggle but that was what the bribery was there for.

“We’ve had a few trial runs,” Sam offered finally. Castiel studied him with a look that suggested the angel knew too much and wasn’t massively happy about it.

“Have you indeed.” 

Was there a slight warning in that or was Sam just paranoid?

“And if the movies are right then you should be used to this,” Dean jumped in, a Winchester tag team on one of the more peculiar subjects Sam could remember. “Priest up front, giving orders, people on their knees being all thankful. It’s a bit like that except with less clothes and more punishments.”

“I can assure you the church has not been lax when it comes to punishments.” Castiel sighed softly. “Although you may be right. Offer yourself for penance and this will be depressingly similar.”

“Awesome. Then it’ll be easy for you.” Dean’s confidence was infectious. There was another long pause before the angel raised his head a little more and a decisive expression entered his eyes. 

“We shall have an experiment, then. Both of you will move in front of me and then kneel. We will see if it works in practise as easily as it seems to in your heads.” Castiel’s voice hadn’t risen but he had added a little extra steel to the words to emphasise that he was not joking about his suggestion.

Well, that seemed fair enough. Sam pushed himself up without a word, crossing the short distance between them before dropping to his knees and clasping his hands in front of him as though praying at an altar. There was the softest noise of amusement from Dean’s direction before a creak indicated he had left the bed. Sure enough, Dean sank down to kneel beside Sam, his head lowered although Sam suspected that Dean had given Castiel his trademark ‘come to bed’ expression based on the slightly flustered look that briefly crossed Castiel’s face. Sam sighed. He knew that look. Never knew whether to kiss him or smack him.

“We are here to serve your every desire, sir,” Dean said solemnly although again with that deliberate hint of sexual promise.

Apparently in this circumstance, the ‘smack’ option was definitely the better one. Sam growled softly. There were many things they really shouldn’t do and teasing their angel right at the point he had almost agreed to their plan was insane even for Dean. Still, at least Cas didn’t look too put off, the flustered replaced by thoughtfulness and that was definitely better than a frown. Perhaps Cas had a weakness for puppy dog eyes.

Sam grinned to himself. What was he saying? No, Cas had a weakness for _Dean_.

“Well, at least you are able to follow some orders, although the verbal aspects need some work.” the angel finally spoke, and Sam brightened even further. “But if you are being displayed as my servants, you _will_ behave. It’s a matter of reputation.”

“We won’t make you look bad,” promised Sam.

“-to a bunch of sex club patrons,” finished Dean cheerfully, and almost earned himself a side punch from Sam. For once, just for once, could they do something without Dean’s mouth crashing the party?

“We can also get him a gag if you prefer,” Sam added, and received a punch on the arm back from his brother. Castiel watched them with the weary expression of a parent with two bickering children before giving a soft sigh.

“That may be preferable.” There was another pause, the angel looking upwards for a moment as though after divine assistance before closing his eyes. “Then it is agreed. I will become your Dominant for this task.”

Success! They were already pushing themselves up when Castiel looked back at them and frowned.

“Did I say you could get up?”

They shot each other a quick look before slowly sliding back to their knees. Apparently Castiel was already getting the hang of this, although Sam wasn’t entirely sure whether this was a good thing or not. Still, what was the worst that could happen?

*

“So? What do we think?” 

Dean was half asleep when the question was asked, face half covered by a pillow and mostly wrapped around the heat of his younger brother. He grunted, which he felt was pretty reasonable under the circumstances, and pressed a little kiss to Sam’s shoulder just in case this display of affection might shut him up. It didn’t. 

“Dean. C’mon.”

“Aww, I don’t ask you questions when you’re trying to sleep,” Dean complained, dragging the pillow off his face and giving Sam a grumpy look. Sam seemed completely unbothered by this, which was almost certainly honed by years of ignoring Dean’s outbursts. Asshole. 

“Actually you do. All the time.” Sam bent across and pressed a kiss to Dean’s neck, which Dean accepted as payment for such annoyances. He offered a lazy grin back and squirmed closer. Sure, they’d already fucked already that evening, his ass feeling achy and happy, but his cock was always happy for seconds even if that did mean yet another shower. 

“Fine.” Dean yawned. “So what’s the problem?”

“Cas.”

“You’re thinking about Cas when you’re naked and cuddling me? Should I be concerned?” Dean huffed a laugh and rolled slightly to face him, running his hand over Sam’s chest lightly and idly trailing the top of his fingertip across a perky nipple. Dean still hadn’t decided whether the long term effects of running into the Trickster’s bet were technically a ‘good’ thing, but they had done wonders for his stress levels. Having Sam to roll around with, to curl up with and explore stuff he’d never even considered before, and then to chat about the random stuff he’d always kept to himself. Sure, it wasn’t going to dismantle years of hiding worries away, but it was a start. Kinda like petting a dog, he reckoned. A really sexy dog with gorgeous eyes, body to die for and almost unlimited energy.

Sam calmly and gently took hold of Dean’s hand and ran it down his body to drift over an already growing erection. 

“I think you’re good.” he advised. Dean’s lopsided grin widened a little. Damned right he was, and now he was getting eager himself.

“So, before I pounce on you harder, what’s the matter with Cas? He’s not here, is he?” Dean blinked around the room quickly. You could never tell with angels.

“He’s not here. I was just wondering how well this is going to go. It’s not exactly something he’d do on a regular basis.”

“What, stand around looking disapproving and strict? Pretty sure that’s his number one day job. Especially telling me off.” Dean settled back with another lazy yawn, his fingers slowly stroking over Sam’s length delicately. “I mean, sure, it’s not normally something to do with sex, but he keeps watch over us. He’s our reproachful guardian angel. Pretty much the same thing except he gets to order us around and we have to do what he says. Hell, might be hard to get him to _stop_.”

Sam purred, shifting his weight as Dean’s hand continued to stroke, but Dean could tell something was nagging away at him. The hand paused as Dean eyed him.

“What?”

“Ah.. it’s nothing.”

“Bullshit. What?”

There was a pause and Sam gave him a cautious look under his mop of brown hair, a look that Dean could rarely resist and highly suspicious for that very reason. Hand squeezed a little tighter in encouragement of words, causing a gasp to escape Sam’s lips.

It worked.

“Just … what are we going to do if we need to be ..,” Sam’s eyes were uncertain. “..affectionate?”

Dean digested that for a moment. “Affectionate?”

“Yeah. Make them believe we’re actually in a relationship rather than having dragged some poor guy off the streets. Or heavenly clouds, in this case.” Sam expanded, his voice determined but an awkward look in his eyes that Dean found pretty adorable in its own right. He made a soft noise of acknowledgement.

“Well, I guess… ,” he trailed off and frowned. He hadn’t really thought about it. “I mean.. We could play together, for a start.”

From the way Sam’s eyes widened anyone would have thought Dean had suggested something scandalous.

“In public?!”

“Yeah. I mean, they’re not going to know we’re brothers, are they? And Cas will…,” Dean hesitated again. This was definitely getting into areas he’d never considered, like an angel’s sex life. Was Cas a virgin? Could they even have sex without damning them to hell or something bad? These were the questions that Sunday sermons should have tackled, no one thought of the practical needs.

“Uh. I dunno what Cas will do,” Dean said finally. “His viewpoint on sex seems to differ on a day to day basis depending how frustrated he’s feeling.”

“He likes you.” Sam said truthfully. Dean frowned at him.

“Yeah, well. He’s saved me a couple of times. Probably views me like a rescue dog.”

“Nah. He likes you.” A lazy grin. “Properly.”

“What, biblically?” Dean blinked, then hesitated. “Are they even allowed to do that?”

“Sounds like he’s done a lot he’s not supposed to do.” Sam pointed out. Dean shot him a look that he hoped stressed the fact that the topic should at least find different subject matter.

“What is this? Are you jealous of Cas or something?”

“Ah, don’t worry. I’m not jealous, just cautious.. And a bit curious, if I’m honest. Half the time he looks like he’s experiencing stuff he’s never had to deal with before. You’re one of them.” Sam rested his head back on the pillow and studied Dean thoughtfully. Well, fantastic. Dean scowled slightly.

“Hey, you’re the one who suggested him for this role. And granted unless we wanted Bobby turning up and really making it awkward there weren’t many other choices, but don’t start complaining at me for stuff that isn’t my fault. I produce enough of my own crap, thank you very much.”

Thankfully Sam seemed to be giving him a fond look which made the discussion easier, but still this was a topic that felt awkward. Dean sulked a little more before starting his hand movements again, breaking Sam’s gaze as his brother’s eyes drifted shut in sensation. Okay. Focus on sex, focus a little less on fucked up theology. Sam always was an easy guy to press buttons on, so damned responsive, and this was a perfect time to utilise that little ability.

“Perhaps you should kiss his ring,” Sam commented idly, his eyes still shut and relaxed.

“What-the-fuck, _SAM!_!” Dean was scandalised, his hand automatically squeezing out of shock and making Sam yelp in sudden pain.

“Ow, the ring on his finger, fuck sake Dean!” Sam protested. “Like the whole Catholicism thing!”

“Oh. Yeah.” Dean looked shifty and pretended his mind wasn’t as filthy as it blatantly was. “I knew that.” Pause. “Sorry.”

Sam groaned and began to laugh softly. “Man, you really are sore on that subject, aren’t you?”

“Sammy, shush or the next one will be deliberate.”

There was another little chuckle before Sam shifted over him, pushing Dean onto his back and straddling his legs as he gazed down at him with a half smile playing on his lips. Dean growled softly in warning, but fuck, nothing wrong with this situation at all.

“Perhaps I should be worried you’re interested in another man,” Sam leaned down, their chests pressed against each other and Sam’s mouth purring in his ear. Sam’s leg slipped between Dean’s thighs, pressing against an already painful groin. “Perhaps I should mark my territory again.”

“Technically he’s not a man,” Dean objected, although for the life of him he didn’t know why he was arguing. Hard fucking for ‘territory marking?’ Oh fuck yes. Sam made a ‘pft’ noise and pressed a hard kiss onto Dean’s mouth.

“Close enough.” Sam cocked his head to one side, briefly looking like the world’s most perverted spaniel through his hair. “D’you want me in you, Dean?”

Well, that was high on the list of Fucking Stupid Questions, just ahead of ‘Are Demons All Bad’ and below ‘Should I take my hand out the Fire.’ Dean’s eyes gleamed, waiting for a heartbeat before grabbing hold of Sam and rolling them over onto Sam’s back with a little huff from his brother.

“What, you need some sort of invitation now? You can always take what you want..,” Dean’s grin grew cockier. “ _If_ you’re able.”

“So much for obedience.”

“Definitely overrated.” Dean leaned down to nip at his brother’s lower lip gently with his teeth. “C’mon Sammy. Unless I’ve tired you out already, poor little baby. _Ow_.”

The ow related to Sam’s nails that he had calmly dug into the meat of Dean’s right ass-cheek, Sam looking at him with smiles and fake innocence. Oh, it was war was it? Game on, asshole.

Ten minutes later of tusselling, rolling and general fun, Dean found himself pinned on his stomach underneath Sam’s weight and with not many opportunities for conquering left. Sam waited politely before bending over him and gently biting his ear.

“Give up yet?” Sam’s arm was already sliding between bed and Dean’s stomach, and Dean grinned as he was yanked upward into a hands and knees position and found the tip of Sam’s cock already pressing against a bruised opening. Yeah, he’d never give up but that didn’t mean he couldn’t surrender once in a while.

And fuck, he thought as Sam slowly slid into him and Dean’s eyes closed. His brother definitely knew what he was doing.

*

The location of the event was what appeared to be a run down industrial estate with a few companies still clinging to life around the somewhat battered warehouses. It certainly screamed many things - sometimes by their own power - but upmarket bondage club was not really one of the contenders. The only thing that gave Sam hope was the fact that the makeshift car park seemed significantly busier than the surroundings suggested. 

“Not exactly the classy outlook I was expecting,” commented Dean as they left the car and stood looking critically at the peeling exterior of warehouse 13. Sam eyed the surrounding environment again; it was mid-evening and it was already low light, the gloom helped by a couple of spotlights that lit up certain working areas as thought this might in some way put off any criminals in the nearby area. A lorry sat forlornly in one corner near another warehouse, ‘FAB Movers!’ printed on the side to suggest that at some point in the day people used it for other things other than exciting events.

“Perhaps it gets better on the inside,” Sam replied as they slowly began to make their way toward the building.

“Like me, huh?” Dean murmured to him with a wicked grin. “I’m still walking funny.” 

Sam shot him another warning look and glanced behind them to check whether Castiel had heard the tease. From the look on the angel’s face it was clear that he had been listening to other voices outside of their hearing rather than theirs, which was both a relief and a worry.

“You okay, Cas?” Sam checked. The look of concentration in his eyes turned slowly to puzzlement as Castiel refocused on current events and frowned, trying to make sense of the question.

“I am fine, thank you.” an eyebrow lift. “Should I not be?”

“Looking good, Cas.” Dean added, swiftly moving the conversation away from tricky questions. And Sam had to concede the point. Castiel had reviewed more of the photographs and decided upon an expensive suit in a rich charcoal colour with a sharply fitting shirt and boots so shiny that Sam reckoned they could use it to check for shapeshifters. Sure, they still hadn’t yet removed the trenchcoat that seemed to be permanently welded to his form, but there was a changing room for that type of dissection. 

“Thank you. These clothes seemed appropriate under the circumstances.” 

“Is there normally an angel dress code for this type of thing?” Dean queried in faint fascination.

“That depends entirely on the angel you speak to.” Castiel replied with feeling, and paused as Sam pulled open the warehouse door. They stared inside. 

“So much for interest on the inside.” Sam murmured to himself.

The warehouse seemed pretty much empty. The floor was concrete, with various old fluid stains that Sam hoped were just oil, and a few abandoned crates and boxes aligning the walls. There were lights at least, new ones that offered a warm reddish tone and seemed to lead further into the building itself.

“Pretty sure there’s a door over there,” Dean stepped through into the warehouse and glanced around him critically. “Because currently this is feeling a bit of a let-down.”

Sam was about to follow his brother when he noticed that the angel’s frown had discovered new depths again, and that didn’t seem to be connected to whatever Angel Radio Cas was linked up to. 

“Are you okay?” Sam scanned the environment but everything looked peaceful, which he guessed was suspicious in itself. 

Castiel stepped forward, his shiny shoes making a clear tap-tap noise as he carefully studied the warehouse like a dog trying to locate a scent on the wind. 

“I am uncertain.” he said finally. “Something isn’t quite right.” 

Dean glanced back and then immediately looked toward the shadows, of which there were many. “Like what? I haven’t got any weapons on me… other than my dazzling wit, of course.”

“I don’t know. This is what uncertain means.” Castiel replied in a slightly frustrated voice. “I cannot sense as far as I normally can. There are people here but ..,”

The words trailed off into frown again. Dean glanced at Sam.

“We saying this place is angel proof now?” he hissed softly toward his brother. “Are we walking into some leather clad trap here?”

“I doubt it’s angel proof but it seems to have some concealment enchantments,” Castiel stepped closer although his expression hadn’t improved. “Although nothing I am familiar with.”

Sam glanced around them and then at the door at the end of the lights. “Is this likely to hurt you?”

“It is possible, but again, I doubt it. They do not feel aggressive in nature.” And with that apparently a decision was made; the angel began to walk briskly toward the door, the heels of his boots click-clicking on the concrete floor as he did so. 

“Awesome, runaway angel,” breathed Dean before they jogged after him, catching up swiftly and falling into line as Castiel reached the door - which finally looked like something other than decayed - and pulled it open.

And finally they’d found it. Thank god for that.

Past the door lay a whole new world. Having walked down a couple of carpeted steps, Sam stared incredulously at the little reception area with its gleaming desk area and clearly marked changing room signs, all made in what appeared to be expensive materials and giving it the impression of a 5* hotel that had decided to embrace its dark side and hired a goth as a designer. Whoever it was had done a good job; the typical black, red and neutral colour scheme had been carefully managed, with architectural features and artwork carefully highlighted with lighting. Impressive, and definitely not feeling particularly temporary.

Dean gave a low whistle but then shut up as Sam gently punched his arm again. This was not the time for commentary, especially given the staff who were already watching them with the experienced eyes of those who know trouble when it strolled through the door.  
Castiel at least seemed more at ease, handing the slip of paper to the receptionist behind the desk. And now Sam was very thankful they hadn’t tried Plan A and simply attempt to sweet talk their way into the event; the way the receptionist carefully checked the validity of the ticket and then eyed them in faint displeasure suggested that they would have been kicked out before they’d even tried ‘hi’. Still, the ticket had been damned hard to get.

“Thank you,” the lady spoke in a voice that implied that thanks was merely a formality, and gave another disapproving look toward Dean. On the plus side she did look human, mid-30s at a guess and wearing an outfit that spoke of a cross between librarian and secretary. Her expression, on the other hand, screamed school mistress, and the very harsh ones at that.

A clipboard bearing some dark pieces of paper was slid across the desk toward Castiel, who picked it up and frowned. 

“Please review the club rules and sign at the bottom.” there was the softest of noises from the receptionist. “And I would be grateful if you could tell your pets to keep their eyes to either the front or the floor. Our other patrons may not appreciate being watched until they have fully entered the complex.”

And that was Dean again, who had been staring around him like a small boy in a toy store. Castiel growled and aimed a sharp look at his wayward boy which earned a sheepish look and Dean choosing the floor option. Sighing softly, the angel scribbled a mark at the bottom of the paper and handed it back. It was briefly assessed and swiftly filed away with neat efficiency.

“Thank you. You have access to the upper floor rooms that are clearly marked on the maps next to each of the doors as soon as you enter. The ballroom is the main social arena and will be the first room you see once you enter via the changing room. The changing rooms are to the side there, please use the lockers available which will require a dollar. Please note that the management cannot be responsible for any lost or damaged items outside of these areas. Enjoy your time.”

The last line was spoken in such a manner that it was clear that the receptionist cared not for whether it actually occurred, but at least the voice no longer suggested that it wanted to gut them and Sam counted that as a win.

Needless to say, the changing rooms carried on the theme, dark and slick and bearing lockers that looked as though someone had redesigned school ones using as many expensive materials as they could possibly get their hands on. Sam could see a few other guests busy with their preparations, the majority of costumes leaning toward a distinctive leather-black-draughty design although one man near the door was changing into something that was both sparkly and red and gave him the air of a fashionable goldfish. There was one dressed in a similar style to Castiel, and several others who merely stripped naked and then headed through the door into what was presumably the ballroom.

Sam dragged his mind back to their activities and began to unbutton his shirt as being the best place to start. Castiel had already placed his trenchcoat in a locker and was readjusting the way the jacket hung on his shoulders; Dean, being Dean, had stripped down to the little black shorts in record time and had dumped his clothes on top of Castiel’s and was now leaning against a pillar as he watched people move around the room.

Finally Sam was ready, although it was clear that ‘ready’ was relative as apparently their chosen costumes did not quite meet the angel test. Cas gave them a slightly critical look, and then moved the tip of a finger. Suddenly tight shorts felt slightly tighter, almost giving an uplift to ass and crotch. Sam glanced at himself in the mirror and turned to check out the view from the back. Well, it looked damned good, but it also didn’t leave much to the imagination. Hell, it was busy suggesting stuff, and most of it was X rated.

“Uh. Bit daring.” he commented on the smaller, tailored leather version of the shorts they’d originally chosen.

“I told you. You reflect on me,” Castiel answered the unspoken question of ‘why’, still completely unruffled by the situation as he adjusted some shiny silver-style cufflinks. “And with that regard, I must clarify the expected behaviour from you both. You _will_ behave throughout this activity, and you will not be the cause of any trouble as I will have no hesitation in ensuring that you will both regret it physically for at least four days solidly.” 

There was a pause and Cas’ voice dropped into something more conversational. “I am beginning to see the appeal of this lifestyle.”

Sam exchanged glances with Dean and then laughed softly. So much for Cas not getting into the spirit of the situation.

“I wouldn’t laugh, it’s a genuine statement,” Castiel added and then glanced at them again thoughtfully before making a tiny movement with a finger. There was a pause as they tried to work out what was suddenly different, and Dean examined his arms incredulously.

“Did you just _oil_ us?”

“It makes your muscles look better in the light. The ancient Greeks highly recommended it.” Castiel delivered the explanation in a matter of fact way, as though this was a perfectly normal activity to perform on your friends. Perhaps it was, who knew what they got up to in heaven. 

“Look at that, we’re oven ready. Awesome.” 

“At least hell just needs to add the seasoning,” Sam murmured back.

Cas looked at them both pointedly until they both fell silent with an apologetic look. There was another raise of the eyebrow that managed to convey the reminder that ‘severely punished’ was still on standby, before Cas turned to head toward the door leading to the ballroom. Dean pulled a little face behind the angel’s back and grinned as Sam gently punched him on the arm again, but fell behind willingly enough.

And then, finally, they were in.


	2. Chapter 2

They found the ballroom easily enough. Even if it hadn’t been directly through the door, the decor alone would have given a hint; still glossy and high level, but this time with added space for furniture and, more obviously, what appeared to be a dance floor that would probably never have anyone actually dance on it. The venue had placed several high backed chairs around the sides with stools and other stuff nearby, grouped in such a way that people could feel slightly isolated whilst still being on blatant display.

Dean had been studying one of the large crystal chandeliers that hung from the ceiling before returning his gaze to their current lord and master who had paused a few steps into the room to survey the surroundings.

“Dunno about you but I’m getting significant Beauty and the Beast vibes from this,” he murmured to Sam next to him. “Just watch out for talking furniture.”

If talking furniture was the worst of their problems then Sam reckoned they were doing well. Less promising was the small mutter from Cas, who had performed his surveillance and apparently found it wanting. They were led to one of the little areas to the side, with a high back chair that had Sherlock Holmes aspirations and a thick rug to one side. Sam waited until Castiel had settled himself in the chair before deciding on the best kneeling spot at the right hand arm. Dean apparently wasn’t in a kneeling mood and instead had drifted to a spot just behind Cas’ shoulder, eyes watchful and mouth shut.

To be fair, it was a good position. Sam had a reasonable view of their fellow patrons, of which there were about twenty groups and all in varying states of activities. Some were chatting with others, some were deeply engrossed in their conversations with their subs or doms or hell, random people depending on whether they had singles in here, and some were doing .. well, he wasn’t sure what they were doing from this angle but they seemed to be enjoying it. Currently he felt like he was a narrator in a very unusual natural history programme.

Every so often he could see a venue staff member make their way through the room, either replenishing the small bites on silver platters that staff members held, or delivering drinks in sparkling heavy cut crystal glasses. Smooth, efficient, and looking remarkably permanent for what was supposed to turn up one day and vanish a few days later. If there wasn’t magic involved then they really needed to tip their movers.

“This may be more complicated than previously anticipated,” Castiel murmured, his hand draping on Sam’s head idly where he began to stroke his hair as though Sam was a particularly tall dog. As sensations went, it wasn’t that bad.

“How so?” Sam kept his voice low and his head bowed. 

“Some of these guests aren’t human.” 

There was a pause as they considered this. Joy.

“Awesome.” came Dean’s contribution from the back. “Who?”

Cas’ fingers began to toy with Sam’s hair, gently teasing out a few strands and allowing them to slide through his fingertips as he spoke.

“The figure in the far corner, next to the picture of a rather large lady in a flamboyant dress? A shapeshifter. The one over there with the small group of eager submissives is a vampire. A minor pagan god sits over there, although I can’t remember what their particular powers were. A few others that I cannot place but who certainly do not tick the humanity box. Oh, and one of the submissives to that man over there in a business suit is a skinchanger.”

“That’s quite a list,” Sam felt his heart sink a little.

“That’s only the ones I can currently identify,” Castiel added helpfully. 

“Great.”

Sam risked a look across the room. Each of the individuals identified seemed to be relaxed and perfectly happy with the surroundings, even the skinchanger whose body language seemed almost excited. He frowned. 

“So what, this is a BDSM club for supernaturals?”

“It appears their clientele is varied. The majority seem to be human.”

“What about the hosts themselves?” Dean murmured from the back. Castiel pursed his lips slightly as he turned his attention to the subjects at hand, his fingers stilling briefly in concentration.

“Hard to tell,” he said finally. “Not quite human, but I cannot tell whether that is by blood or enchantment.”

“Possible enchantment? Not sure HR would approve of that.” Dean murmured and was just about to continue when he suddenly shut up so swiftly that Sam had to look at him to check whether magic or a gag had been involved. But no, just Dean, who was looking at something in the ballroom with such an intensive expression that lasers would have been impressed. 

Confused, Sam followed the gaze, only to discover that the creature identified as a vampire was sauntering his way toward them, followed by two mostly naked subs who were trailing after him at a respectful distance. Tall, broad shouldered and clearly strong, said vampire was wearing expensively tailored trousers, a small waistcoat and very little else other than boots. 

Ah. Shit.

A little too conscious of his brother instinctively looking at the vampire as though Dean was a human shaped guard dog, Sam dipped his head submissively in the vague hope that it might balance it all out. The vampire himself stopped a few steps away and eyed Castiel thoughtfully. The angel rose gracefully to his feet, lifting his chin as he returned the look.

The background noise continued to hum and buzz but for a moment there was utter silence in their little group

“Well. This club does attract quite a mix, doesn’t it?” the vampire cocked his head to one side lazily. “I could sense you from outside the doors, and it takes quite a bit to breach the walls. It’s good to see some new blood, if you pardon me the..,”

His voice trailed off as he suddenly took a better look at Dean standing behind the chair. An incredulous expression entered his eyes.

“...phrase,” he finished slowly. “Is that _Dean Winchester_ standing behind you?”

Sam almost closed his eyes in despair. Fantastic. Undercover and apparently their reputation preceded them. Sure, there was always the unlikely chance that they’d run into a ‘friend’ every so often, but this was ridiculous. Dean himself was keeping quiet, although he had shifted his weight and straightened his back and Sam knew without looking that his brother would be wearing an expression that had a mix of obstinate and wary. Vampire eyes turned to him, and widened even further.

“And the brother?!”

Great. Dean got a name, he was ‘the brother’. The vampire turned back to Castiel curiously.

“Forgive my intrusion again, but _how_ do you have these boys? Are they brainwashed?”

Clearly not the thing to ask. Castiel looked disapproving, as though the vampire had just spat in his drink and then added an olive.

“I have not done anything to them. They are here of their own free will.”

Whatever the vampire was expecting it was clearly not that.

“Really.” the vampire drawled out the word and then chuckled. “Dean Winchester is a masochist? Well, that answers a few questions.” 

His eyes raised to Dean, who for the moment was still doing a good job in keeping his comments to himself and god, Sam was pretty damned sure there’d be a whole sea of comments if his brother was able to speak. The vampire’s smile widened slightly, although this attempt at humour never entered his eyes that had turned remarkably cold.

“Interesting to see you again, Dean.”

And that was the comment that broke the sea wall. 

“Do I know you?” Dean replied, and Sam winced internally. They’d gone through this countless times, speak only when Cas told them to and at no other point unless something horrendous was about to happen, but nope. The only good thing was that the question wasn’t necessarily rude, and currently didn’t contain any curses. Long might this last.

There was a polite smile from the vampire.

“You destroyed two of my nests.” 

“Oh.” There was a pause from Dean, who was clearly uncertain what to say. “Sorry.”

“Mm.” the vampire eyed Dean again before returning his gaze to Castiel. “Well, I’m impressed. If you have managed to chain these boys to you then your handling abilities are skilled indeed.”

“What do you mean, _if?_ ” Castiel’s voice was irritable. The vampire opened his hands a little more, a small gesture of peace.

“Come now, these are safe grounds for conversations. You know the rules. No unanticipated fighting and so forth. And forgive my questioning, but we’re all very aware that these two seem to enjoy .. how can I put this? Destroying things.” the vampire raised an eyebrow. “You must have noticed that current attention is on you.”

It was true enough. The room wasn’t silent as such but Sam was conscious that several faces were turned their way, not least those eyes belonging to the supernatural classification. This was disconcerting to say the least.

The angel gave a little nod although his voice was unchanged, almost bored. “I had noticed.”

“So, then. I’m dying to understand your techniques. Both the Baby Winchesters have the reputation for,” there was a pause when Sam believed the vampire was genuinely searching for a more polite version of the words he wanted to say. “Being obstinate, unpredictable, volatile even with each other, impatient, impulsive and,” the vampire glanced at Dean idly. “A bit of a brat.”

“Screw you, toothy,” snapped Dean immediately. “He doesn’t have to explain anything to you.”

Sam winced. Apparently the sea wall was destined to be smashed into tiny little pieces and added to the metaphorical sand banks, but strangely the vampire seemed more entertained than scandalised by this outburst and gave a rough chuckle.

“Ah, now _that’s_ the asshole I remember.”

Castiel looked even more unimpressed

“If the rules state there should be no conflicts between guests,” he said finally, and a little icily. “I am uncertain how this conversation helps.”

“My apologies. I mean no disrespect,” Hands parted slightly. “But you see my confusion. He’s about as controllable as his damned father-”

“Bite me,” snarled Dean, stepping forward automatically only for Castiel to catch hold of his arm and yank him back, making Dean stumble slightly in the process. Their eyes met, Dean’s hard and rebellious and clearly about to protest versus Castiel’s cold blue steel coming the other way. For a few moments they held each other’s gazes with enough strength to fuel a couple of power stations, and Sam started to calculate the best ways to separate them before they blew up their cover, themselves and potentially the nearby area.

“Be quiet,” said Castiel in a low but dangerously clear voice. “and get on your knees,” 

They were in the middle of a club with more than a few eyes on them but Dean and Castiel were in their own personal conversation bubble, uncaring of the outside world in their silent battle that Sam wasn’t entirely sure Dean would get himself out of. His brother was damned hard to move outside his stubborn zone, and Castiel’s hand on Dean’s arm looked tight enough to hurt. The disapproval seemed to emanate from the angel and Sam had a very strange urge to slink away; reminded him a little too much of the time their father had come back and discovered that they’d driven the car when they were too young to even properly reach the pedals. Dean hadn’t been able to sit down comfortably for a week.

Dean still hadn’t moved, and Sam wasn’t even sure his brother had remembered where the hell they were. Oh Jesus. 

_Submit, please god, submit_

Finally, grudgingly, Dean slowly dropped to his knees and looked away. Or attempted to look away, anyway; Castiel swapped arm for chin, seizing hold of Dean’s jaw and forcing him to look back at him. The angel waited until Dean’s attention was firmly on him before adding to his instructions.

“And do not speak again unless I allow it.”

There was the faintest trace of sulky revolt in Dean’s eyes but there was no disagreement and his brother’s gaze flickered away in a silent acknowledgement that the order was understood. Needless to say, this wasn’t good enough as Castiel’s fingers squeezed slightly to point out their positions.

“Yes, sir.”

Castiel exhaled softly, a short noise of disapproval, before dropping his hand and looking back to the vampire who had been watching with obvious fascination. And that held at least a little hope that things weren’t all bad. Sure, this was not the best demonstration of willing obedience but Sam was willing to bet it put to bed any further doubts whether this was the Real Dean Winchester. Whether Dean had properly understood what he was literally getting his ass into was another matter, but his brother was generally good at coping with unexpected things. 

“My apologies.” the angel spoke. “As you note, his natural personality can occasionally be at odds to his servitude.” 

“That was a long way to say he can still be an ass at times.” the vampire observed.

“Yes.” said Castiel, which was as much as he clearly wanted to talk about on the subject. Sam was aware of the vampire’s gaze turning to him thoughtfully and tried to look as professional as possible from a kneeling position. Dean was still silent and radiating sulky from his position on the floor.

“So, will you be planning a demonstration at some point this evening?”

Oh, crap.

There was a pause. Castiel’s eyebrow rose. Sam felt his stomach hit a little turbulence, giving a small glance toward Dean but his brother still had the sullen air about him that suggested the finer points of implication might be passing him by. 

“Demonstration?” the angel repeated carefully. 

“I would imagine it would be popular. Now, I still have no idea how you managed to get them, but speaking for myself, being able to witness, say, a thrashing on one or both of the Winchester boys is a sight I would be only to see, even if they had volunteered for the situation. I am certain I speak for many here, especially from our .. uh, particular community.” the vampire kept his gaze directly on Castiel although Sam could see a flicker of a thoughtful look in his own direction. Sam kept his back straight and eyes forward, pretending he didn’t know what was being suggested.

“Mm,” said Castiel. That was not necessarily the answer Sam had been hoping for. 

“Have a think about it. I will be undertaking a demonstration myself a little later on with my twins here,” he gestured toward the boy and girl who were hovering nearby at a respectful distance, both naked and with leather collars on. “And there are a few others of notable worth throughout the night. There are some remarkable techniques to watch.”

“Do you not see enough bloodshed as part of your day to day life?”

There was a soft scoff.

“This is different, as you well know. Willing and happy to bend to my will without any force whatsoever. It certainly makes feeding that much easier,” the vampire looked back at his humans with obvious pleasure, before turning back again. 

“I will consider it,” the angel said finally. The vampire smiled.

“I look forward to it.” The vampire gave one last hungry look at Dean before giving the smallest bow of farwell and moving off toward the other end of the ballroom, accepting a glass of what looked suspiciously like blood as he went. 

Bowing his head slightly, Sam used his fallen bangs over his eyes as camouflage to scan the room. They were definitely interesting to the supernatural element who were still watching them, although at least they were less interesting to the normal folk. Unfortunately they had also caught the attention of the venue hosts, a couple watching them from one of the sides with particularly sharp expressions.

Damnnit.

Castiel finally moved to sit back on the chair, rubbing his chin with one finger for a second before his eyes moved to study Dean’s back. Sam could see the tension in his brother’s shoulders, waiting and anticipating. He could also feel Cas’ general displeasure, so heavy was like he was wearing it as a cloak.

“Dean, come here.” the instruction was low and weirdly felt like they could hear it in their heads rather than via the ears, and was definitely toothy.

Dean growled softly and a little helplessly, before pushing himself up and moving to sink back down on knees in front of Castiel’s chair. Sam had a pretty good view from where he was, but he wasn’t sure he wanted it. Having his brother at his own beck and call was one thing, watching someone else do it wasn’t quite as much fun.

The sulky expression was still on his brother’s face but Dean was carefully avoiding meeting Cas’ gaze, and that was probably one of the most submissive things Sam reckoned he’d seen out of his brother. Yeah, this was just like how Dean had acted around their father whenever John got annoyed, a little boy trying to act tough when actually he was worried as fuck. Needless to say it normally landed him in more trouble than before, but according to Dean it was worth it.

From the displeasure in Castiel’s position, getting into more trouble seemed to be turning into a tradition.

“Look at me.” there was a pause and then the angel put a little more force and irritation in the words, lower and slower for each. “Look. At. Me.”

A flash of rebellion in Dean’s eyes but he lifted his eyes, a stubborn line to his jaw but his mouth firmly shut. Sam had another flash of sympathy, half tempted to butt in to try to save his brother’s neck - or hide, more likely - but aware he was likely to add to the angel’s annoyance. Cas had been damned clear on the rules he was expecting, hell, Sam had half expected Castiel to provide diagrams. Didn’t make it any easier to watch.

“Do you want to say anything?” 

That was normally a stupid question but for once Dean kept his mouth shut. Their conversations were still low, still a murmur between themselves rather than on some stage with a microphone taped to them, but it felt like their little group was plastered in high definition on some movie screen. There was another flash of emotion in Dean’s eyes but this was clearly trying to save face; he’d already admitted defeat.

Castiel’s eyes narrowed. Sam closed his eyes again and put up another prayer to whoever was listening. _Apologise. C’mon Dean. Please_

There were another few moments of a silence so solid Sam could have cut it up and spread butter on it. Finally Dean sighed softly and looked down.

“Sorry.”

Castiel’s expression did not improve, suggesting that the phrasing needed work. Dean straightened his back a little and glanced up again.

“I’m sorry, _sir_.”

And that finally had a ring of sincerity about it. Dean already looked miserable, having broken the plan that he himself had helped to form and almost certainly feeling like he’d just fucked up the whole thing. Sam resisted the urge to give him a hug and instead leaned against Castiel’s leg a little, in case the touch might in some way lessen the angel’s annoyance. It didn’t.

“Sam, you are not to get involved.” Castiel spoke without even bothering to look at him.

Well, that failed. Sam sighed softly and gave his brother a little small smile. Dean’s jaw hadn’t relaxed but the look in his eye wasn’t quite nervousness. What it was Sam had no idea. Uncertainty, perhaps. They’d been through a lot, but this really hadn’t been on the list of things to do and quite frankly Sam had no idea where Cas would take this.

Said look intensified as Castiel pushed himself forward and reseized Dean’s jaw in his hand.

“I appreciate your attempts to protect me, “ the angel’s voice was low and relatively soft, contrasting with the hard look in his eyes. “but that is not your job. You will not misbehave under the guise of ‘doing the right thing’. You will certainly not talk back to anyone without my express approval.” the angel paused and looked at him. “Do you understand?”

There was a soft growl, but Sam knew that noise. That was the noise of grudging acknowledgement. Castiel raised his eyebrow again and Sam could almost hear Dean’s internal groan.

“I understand, sir.” Dean amended.

They studied each other for a moment, before Castiel smiled and allowed his hand to move from jawline, cupping Dean’s cheek for a moment affectionately before releasing him.

“Good boy.” Castiel settled back. “Now, you may go kiss your brother.”

There was a pause as the general universe tried to work out whether it had actually heard what it thought it heard. Dean’s expression was a picture, a puzzle piece of shock, bewilderment and enthusiasm, and was clearly just about to speak when Castiel shot him a warning look. Sam himself almost jumped out of his skin when the angel stroked two fingers down his face from cheekbone to jaw line and gently pulled him toward him to place a very gentle kiss on Sam’s slightly stunned mouth. 

As a diversion for this discussion, the kiss was a pretty damned good one. Even Sam wasn’t entirely focused on the words and they were practically in his ear. 

“We are currently the star attraction in this place.” Castiel murmured. “Let us give them something to think about that isn’t how suspicious the whole situation is.”

Okay. Well, Sam guessed that made sense. Saying that, when he had anticipated public acts of affection previously he’d always assumed they’d be anonymous, two people in a club with multiple diversions. What he hadn’t considered was the possibility of people - creatures - who actually knew them. This whole thing would be known from here all the way to hell, and hell didn’t tend to forget easily. He glanced up at Dean who was giving him an uncertain look back.

Well, they couldn’t say they hadn’t practised. And from Castiel’s slightly bored expression, the angel clearly hadn’t anticipated that either of them would object. Did this mean that Cas was already aware of their relationship outside the usual brotherly one? They’d been so careful, but realistically the angel could have been anywhere, possibly armed with popcorn or a notebook.

Castiel adjusted his position on the chair and then looked at Sam expectantly. 

“Well?” another soft but remarkably sharp word, illustrating this was not a question. Oh yeah, Cas had stepped into this role as though it was tailor made. 

“Yes, sir.” Sam bowed his head a little and pushed himself up, his mind whirring frantically as he tried to form a possible plan that might stand a chance of working. Dean would be of little help; his brother enjoyed the variety - really, _really_ enjoyed it - but lacked a lot of imagination to come up with his own. Sam had no idea how many people were actually watching them in the busy hall but it felt like every single gaze was trained on them in their little spot as he cleared the distance between them deliberately slowly and held out his hand.

Dean was wearing an expression that was half cautious, half petrified. Typical. Shove him in front of hellhounds and demons and things that wanted to wear his guts as decoration and he was fine. Give him an unexpected emotional request in a public place and he was shaken. Still, he took hold of Sam’s offered hand and eased himself up, taking an almost military stance that showed off his muscles well as he waited to see what Sam would do.

Display, that was the main thing. Sam gently ran his fingertips across Dean’s shoulder, following the line across his chest and arm and back as he slowly walked around his brother like a weird version of a Winchester Maypole. Finally he returned to Dean’s front, his brother raising his chin defiantly with his hands still neatly placed behind his back as Sam captured his jaw in a hand and slowly, delicately, pressed a light kiss to his mouth.

Crazy, really. Enchanted place, supernatural entities watching them, and he still felt the tell-tale twitch of his groin just at the touch of Dean’s mouth on his and the scent of his brother so damned close. Sam smiled, watching Dean relax in front of him before he returned with an even deeper kiss. His hands strayed to cup Dean’s face before allowing them to rest on his brother’s chest lightly as they got a little lost in the embrace.

“Dean. Touch him.” came another gruff instruction from the chair. 

Oh good, audience participation. Sam winced internally and focused entirely on Dean’s still uncertain eyes in front of him. 

_Come on, big brother. You always did like the physical stuff._

Thankfully Dean got with the programme pretty quickly. Sam was relieved to feel his brother’s warm hands move to rest on his back, stroking and kneading briefly before nails were slowly and deliberately applied down to the band of the shorts. Sam gasped into Dean’s mouth and felt him give a little chuckle before Dean stole the opportunity of Sam’s distraction by adding his own power to his kiss. Bastard.

The other distraction of course was Castiel’s oil; fingers slid easily over muscle, turning a touch into a very thorough massage as Sam pressed a little harder against him and felt his brother repond happily to this encouragement. A little too happily, and it was just as well they had the little black shorts otherwise the whole thing would get indecent almost immediately. Dean was more than happy with that, and Sam hissed softly as his brother took the opportunity to nip him sharply on the neck as though taking his cues from their vampire friend.

It was a relief that it was feeling pretty damned natural. The buzz of the club had faded into background noise, he didn’t feel under the microscope, and Dean was getting into it. And hell, it wasn’t as though they were doing anything out of the ordinary for this place. He’d already seen one small group fucking in the corner, a quiet if slightly frantic affair in a slightly private spot, and the level of fetish was pretty damned high even when people were simply drinking. A kiss here, a touch there, nothing much at all. Perhaps he had to add exhibitionist to his CV of sexual habits. 

Probably had to add it to Dean’s as well. His brother was growling possessively in his ear, his hands sliding happily to cup Sam’s ass through the carefully tailored shorts. He carelessly glanced around and sure, there were people watching, but it was a weirdly pleasant type of approving observation rather than the usual unimpressed glares that had followed them for most of their lives. Even the vampire seemed to be mildly happy, a thoughtful look on his face as he sipped his drink from a few tables away.

They’d found their people. Who knew.

Sam huffed a soft laugh to himself and then, curiously, glanced at their current lord and master who was watching them with careful intensity. Dean took the opportunity of an unguarded neck to start biting and sucking again, his fingers brushing over the front of Sam’s groin lightly and causing him to hiss softly. Cas’ eyes met Sam’s steadily, and Sam found it damned hard to break the stare, like a bunny in headlights.

Dean suddenly realised his brother did not have full attention on him as he glanced at Sam, and then back at Castiel. A lopsided grin aimed itself at the angel, almost as though he was drunk.

“Anything else you want us to do, sir?” Dean’s voice was polite and respectful and definitely fake. Castiel’s gaze slid to Dean thoughtfully, one finger rubbing his chin as the angel mulled over this query.

“There are many things I want you to do. However, I am not certain that the current environment would support such endeavours.” 

Dean’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but Cas’ look of deep thought didn’t alter.

“Does he want us to have some sort of orgy,” Dean murmured to one side in amusement.

“I dunno,” Sam murmured back. “Do angels even know what orgies are?”

“We do. Thank you for your concern about my general knowledge.” Castiel replied, although there was a slight disapproval in his tone that made Sam flinch slightly and offer an apologetic grin. 

“There’s heavenly orgies? What, fluffy clouds and cream cakes and bubbling jacuzzis?” Dean was clearly fascinated by this image and only managed to remember where they were when Sam inserted a little elbow into his side. 

“I would normally punish you for talking during the quiet moments, but you are extremely sweet when you’re excited.” Castiel advised in his own version of a safety announcement. Dean looked sheepish for all of a second before his expression moved to the ‘beg for forgiveness rather than ask for permission’ look, or possibly the puppy dog ‘I want a cookie’ one.

“You cannot coax me with your beseeching look and sorrowful eyes.”

“I love a challenge.” murmured back Dean to Sam, said sorrowful eyes still on Castiel. The angel sighed.

“You are aware of how sensitive my hearing is, correct?”

“Well, I am now.” 

“Dean, don’t push it.” Sam murmured. “Not the place.”

Oh, but he knew his brother. Dean loved to push it. He was the type to slam his hand on the big red button just to see what would happen, and for reasons Sam didn’t quite understand his brother had managed to gain scenery blindness in his quest to play with Cas. Cas didn’t look much better, his intense gaze turned to Dean showing that tiny bit of interest that suggested the angel was fully on board with this suggestion.

Oh good grief, they were all going to die in a pool of blood, lube and leather restraints.

“My apologies, sir.” Sam said softly, trying to pull the conversation back to professional. “He is still learning.”

Castiel made a soft thoughtful noise in the back of his throat. “So I noticed. We may have to correct that later tonight.”

Sam slowly and deliberately squeezed his brother’s ass cheek hard before Dean opened his mouth again. There was an indignant pained squeak and annoyed eyes turned to him before Sam glared back with not massively masked anger. Dean hesitated, and then rolled his eyes.

“Fine.”

Dear god, make the lesson really, _really_ hard. Still, Castiel seemed entertained which was probably a good thing. Sam hadn’t been certain whether they’d find themselves trussed up on a piece of equipment before the hour was out, and despite the surprising appeal of that it did make investigations damned hard to carry out.

“Yes, sir.” Eyes turned to Castiel again innocently. “Have your wicked way with me.”

“I’m an angel. I don’t do wicked.” Castiel advised softly, and then gave the tiniest of smiles. “I do vengeance.”

Oh god. Sam wanted to beat the pair of them. He dug his nails into Dean’s ass a little more and looked back at their lord and master who finally remembered his role. Cas straightened his back and the strict demeanor was back again, a thoughtful and not too impressed look at Sam. And he could cope with that. In all truth, it sent a little traitorous shiver down his spine but that was a thought for another time.

“Dean, come here and sit there.” Castiel ordered him, his voice back to the husky, rough instruction that came naturally to the angel. Blue eyes moved to Sam. “And you, Sam, go explore the area for suitable places to..,” there was a small pause and then the tiny smile again. “..play.”

Play. Uh huh. The actors were getting far too into their roles, but at least they seemed comfortable with it. 

Leaving Dean happily pressed up against Castiel’s leg, his head resting back comfortably and the angel’s hand playing in short ruffled hair, Sam made his way to the back of the ballroom where a series of tables offered small nibbles and snacks for presumably those who could partake. Expensive stuff as well, the type that Dean would probably hoover up if he caught a sniff of it, and he was about to steal one of the sausages when his attention was caught by another submissive who had approached and was beginning to fill a plate.

“Hi,” he said softly. The girl looked up at him, startled, and then smiled at him.

“Hello. You’re new.” she reached past him and picked up a piece of bread to add to the plate.

“Yeah. Heard a lot about it, so thought we’d try it.” 

“You’re with the stern looking man in the chair over there, aren’t you?” she cocked her head to one side, her eyes easy and happy. “How are you finding it?”

“It’s a bit bigger than I’m used to.” Sam admitted. She chuckled.

“Understandable. It can be really hard to get a ticket to this one. So hard to track down. But it’s worth it, it really is. They look after us so well, and any trouble is resolved quickly. Follow the rules and it’s all really great.” 

Sam nodded. “Who are you with?”

“Oh, my owner is the lady over there. We’ve come here for a few years now. It’s a place you can really be yourself, you know?” eyes danced again. Sam found himself smiling back at her automatically, and glanced at the lady in question who was busy in conversation with what he assumed was another dominant based solely on the outfit choices. This time there was a faint uniform theme which seemed to be at odds with the casual mood.

“It’s really well organised.” Sam decided to push his luck. “Do you know who runs it?”

“I think it’s a company,” the girl said after a pause. “My owner is contacted through a specific work channel whenever it’s in the area. Good reputations and excellent shows means that you’re on their approved list. And- oh! I’m sorry, I’m being summoned. Good to meet you,.. Uh?”

“Sam.”

Another warm smile. “Sam. I’m Ellie. Be safe,”

Sam smiled after her and watched as she bobbed back toward the lady in the corner, carrying the plate a little higher as though dramatically making an entrance. Perhaps she was, a lot of this was for show he reckoned. Sam glanced back at Castiel and Dean and was slightly taken aback to find his brother looking relaxed and the angel still stroking over his upper body as though committing the touch to memory. Still, it was clear that they were providing a suitable distraction away from his activities and that had to be a good thing.

Having assessed the ballroom, Sam slipped into the next room and blinked slightly at the next scene. This was clearly the demonstration spot, structures and rings at varying heights, and just in case he wasn’t sure what he was looking at there was a small group already busy in one corner with a naked blindfolded man hooked up to a scary looking contraption and another person restrained against what appeared to be a large padded bench.

Possibly best to keep Cas and Dean away from this until they’d both calmed down a bit. 

Keeping his head lowered as he moved through the next doorway, Sam stepped to one side to allow another group through before glancing up. A corridor. One way proclaimed the toilets and showers, a staircase went lower with ‘jacuzzi’ written on the wall, and there was another room to the right that seemed to lead into pitch dark with ‘second level’ written at the top. A few couples walked past him chatting, giving him a little look or approving smile as they passed, and Sam was giving the stairs to the jacuzzi a careful assessment when further movement from the rooms behind him made him look up. Two people, a man and a woman, following one of the venue staff into the darkened room where they were essentially swallowed up by the black. 

Well, that wasn’t suspicious at all.

Frowning, Sam followed and swiftly discovered that the room was just as dark as it had initially appeared. He couldn’t see walls or contents, and hell, he couldn’t even see his hand in front of his face. Still, the guests had to be _somewhere_. Running his hand against the wall to help him find his direction, Sam moved forward trying to listen for footsteps or movements. They couldn’t have just disappeared, even bodies took effort to move-

A heavy thud on his head and his concerns where the couple had vanished to had reassigned their priorities. 

*

Dean was fairly certain he hadn’t been slipped any drugs recently but if someone told him he was on some weird trip then he’d have believed them. Everything felt surreal. Everything. Their environment was posh but suggestive, simply a different version of the age old need to get laid. His clothing was essentially non-existent and showed his ass off so much that it was probably subtler not to wear anything at all. The company they were keeping included several different supernatural creatures, most of whom hovered around the ‘ripping guts out of people’ theme. And then there was the extremely surreal fact that an angel was currently caressing his back with expert hands and continuing the little shockwaves to his groin that his brother had started. 

And despite all of that? He felt chilled as fuck. Castiel’s hands were on his shoulders and his back was pressed up against the angel’s legs and he felt safe enough to let his eyes drop, safe in the knowledge that Cas was keeping watch. It was .. nice. 

His groin throbbed to suggest that ‘nice’ wasn’t massively accurate, but Dean was happy enough to ignore that for the time being. Cas was Cas. Almost a literal guardian angel, innocent and light and sure, he knew that was about as accurate as the touches being ‘nice’ or Sam being ‘well balanced’, but that was a rabbit hole he wasn’t prepared to fall down just yet. Or at least that was his head talking; his groin throbbed a little more, suggesting that perhaps a thought or two might be worthwhile. 

Dean shifted position and groaned softly as Cas’ thumbs kneaded harder into areas that shot sensation down parts of his body they had no right in being. Just being this close to the angel gave him a weird electric tingle, and Dean didn’t even know where to start with that. Perhaps it was angel juice, perhaps it was static, perhaps it was all in his head. Wouldn’t be the first fucked up thing he’d done and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Speaking of questionable but pleasurable decisions, they still hadn’t seen Sammy. Dean cracked open an eye and surveyed the room again, hoping to see the familiar figure stride in with his long, loping walk, but the room was distinctly Sam free. And that was a worry. Sure, Dean and Cas had provided a reasonable diversion whilst ‘Top Student of The Class’ had sniffed around for information, but they hadn’t agreed for this long. Where the hell was he?

“Any sign on Sam yet?” he murmured.

“Not yet.” Castiel’s voice was a little gruff. And suddenly that whole chilled thing just took on a new extra level of ice. He knew that tone. That was the ‘keep calm’ voice that Cas normally took when everything was about to go to shit but he didn’t like to say. Dean pushed himself up and scanned their surroundings again, a little more urgently. Okay, where was Sammy?

“But you can feel him, right?” he tried to keep his voice level but even he could hear the slight anxiety that edged it. “Sense where he is?”

There was silence, and it was not a happy one. Dean felt ill. Really, really ill. In a place where submissives were vanishing, he’d let Sam go off on his own while he was busy .. what, playing Fucked Up Families with Cas? Jesus, what the fuck was he thinking?

He was about to push himself up when Castiel calmly put his hand on Dean’s shoulder and held him down, ignoring the small protest in doing so. 

“Stay put,” the angel advised, and the small humour of the past hour was gone. This was Castiel back again, stern and focused, and there seemed to be no room for negotiation in his speech. Not that Dean bothered to listen.

“I need to find where he is.” Dean was already feeling a cold fear grab hold of internal bits and refuse to let go. Well, at least his groin had shut up a bit. Cas, on the other hand, wasn’t planning to any time soon. 

“We’re being watched. If you’re going to get up then do it in a controlled manner,” Castiel murmured. Dean swore softly under his breath before taking a deeper breath and slowly pushing himself from the floor. He waited until Castiel was up before turning to look at the doors again.

“Behind me.” Castiel said.

“But-,”

“Dean.”

Dean scowled. “Fine.”

Castiel eyed him for a moment in such a way that suggested a very raw backside was on the menu if this behaviour continued for much longer, but finally, _finally_ started to walk to the next room. Resisting the urge to send up a sarcastic prayer of thanks, Dean followed closely behind him although even his need to find his brother couldn’t stop the small stumble as he walked into the demonstration area and looked around.

“Whoa.” There were probably loads of other things he could have said but Dean was pretty sure that ‘whoa’ covered most of them. It was darker here and the low murmur of discussions were interjected every so often with slapping impact noises and the occasional soft yelp. Dean swiftly scanned each face that he could see, but could already feel in his bones that Sam wasn’t there. His brother’s height had been a grumble when it was clear baby brother was going to end up significantly taller, but it was damned useful for picking him out of a crowd regardless of what the crowd was wearing. 

And now this was really starting to worry him. 

He passed Castiel to enter into the next hallway, glancing to the right to see a solidly closed door with ‘second level’ on it like some fucked up computer game, and then the other way held toilets and some stairs which Dean bounded down to discover a massive jacuzzi lurking in the basement. And there was still no Sam. Not in the toilets, not in the showers, not in the made-for-twenty jacuzzi at the bottom of the world. He was just .. gone.

He couldn’t be gone. Fuck that noise. He’d drag Sam out from wherever it was by the scruff of the neck if he had to, and damn, he had experience in that.

_Where was he?!_

“Dean.” Castiel’s voice was soft but still a warning, but Dean didn’t give a shit. 

“Where is he, Cas?” Dean knew his voice was a mix of anger and upset and probably shouldn’t be talking at all but right at this point these considerations were low on the priorities. “Can you feel him now?”

Castiel’s mouth pursed a little, a sure sign of concentration before a small look of defeat entered the angel’s eyes. Oh no. No, no, no, _no._

“So where do we start to find him?!” his voice was getting louder, and yet again, no shits were given on this day. Well, at least by him, anyway.

“Is there a problem?” a man in one of the venue staff outfits had appeared to one side, looking between them with the mildly concerned expression of good staff everywhere. He was carefully balancing a tray on one hand and a box of cinema popcorn in the other. 

Dean wasn’t in the mood for niceties, and thankfully Cas seemed to be happy for a temporary dominance reprieve.

“Yeah, there’s a fucking problem.” Dean’s voice had so many teeth it could have been mistaken for the tooth fairy. “My brother. He’s vanished.”

“Oh. Well, that does sound perplexing.” The man looked politely concerned, looking between them expectantly. “And where did you see him last?”

And that question was both valid and diplomatically sensitive. ‘Sticking his nose into things’ probably wasn’t the best descriptor, but if they had only two rooms and a very large bubble bath to pick from then it needed a bit extra. Thankfully this was something that their Dominant in residence had already worked out.  
“He was investigating the equipment for our use later in the evening.” Cas was using his best strict voice. “We have not seen him since.”

The staff member nodded thoughtfully, the movement wobbling the popcorn packet for a moment. “And he stayed within these rooms, or perhaps down the stairs? There’s no chance that he might have … ah.. strayed?”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed. “Not that we are aware of. Would it have mattered if he had? Are the other rooms dangerous?”

The staff member seemed a little flustered by that line of thinking.

“Oh, dear me, _no_. It’s just … well, it’s all part of the _rules_ you agreed to when you signed up to the event.” The man’s voice was all business apologetic. “Submissives are forfeited should they stray from the agreed room. An essential aspect of the hospitality laws.”

The angel’s head rose a little. “Hospitality laws.”

“ _Forfeited?!_ ” Dean was on a different word, his voice aghast. “What, you mean… we lose him? _How?!_ ”

“I see,” Cas spoke again, and that was a Castiel voice Dean didn’t like. That was the slightly glum, weary voice of someone who had looked at the future and found it depressingly annoying. Dean looked at the angel and then back at the staff member, who at least had the decency to look slightly … what, sympathetic?

“I don’t see, what the fuck is going on?” Dean stared from one man to the other. “Look, I want my brother back. I don’t care if he went into a forbidden room, that doesn’t mean you get to _keep_ him!”

“Unfortunately, it does. It’s all on the sheet of paper that you were given on the way in.” another smile that looked genuinely sympathetic, before the staff member tried to find some positives. “But don’t worry. They look after them _very_ well.”

This was not as encouraging as the staff member probably wanted it to be. Dean stared back at him as though the man had grown another head, and then growled dangerously enough that the staff member blinked.

“Then can we … _buy_ him back from whoever ‘they’ are?” Dean’s voice was rough and only a few seconds away from diving into the rooms guns blazing - or at least whatever weapon came to hand, the outfit barely had room for balls, let alone ammunition. “Where is he?”

The staff member looked a little crestfallen.

“I honestly don’t know. I watch the popcorn and toast the crackers for the cheese platter.” the staff member looked resigned before perking up again. “However, if you come again tomorrow then I believe one of the owners is making an appearance. You might be able to speak to him directly and plead your case.”

“ _Tomorrow?!_ Fuck that, we’re going to-,” Dean stopped as Castiel’s hand rested on his thigh and firmly squeezed it to get him to shut up. The angel raised a polite eyebrow at the slightly nervous staff member and offered a small neat smile as additional currency.

“The ticket today was difficult to get hold of. Sadly we do not have one for tomorrow.” Cas’ eyebrow rose a little further. “Perhaps you might be able to obtain one for us?”

“Oh, that is a problem.” the staff member looked disheartened by this news and studied the floor for a moment. “Well… perhaps.. Yes. Um, they _do_ often give out tickets for those who are .. uh.. A good draw for crowds. You both seem to attract attention-,”

“Story of my life,” Dean said drily.

“-so, perhaps if you were to demonstrate that you would make a good show then I might be able to persuade our current lead host that you would be a good fit for tomorrow’s event.” the staff member looked between them with the eagerness of a small child trying to cheer up his parents. “Much of this event is made by the players, not by the equipment. You could have the best kit in existence and it would be near worthless if you don’t have anyone to use it.”

Great, this was turning into a literal circus. Send in the clowns. Or, at least, the leather clad sex players, anyway.

Dean was about to open his mouth again when Cas’ hand squeezed hard enough for bruises, cutting the first syllable off before he’d even got it out his mouth.

“That would be appreciated. Thank you.” Castiel replied and earned a smile from the staff member, who gave a little bow and almost upset the popcorn again before heading back to wherever it was he’d come from. Dean waited until he’d turned the corner before rounding on the angel who was still looking in the direction the staff member had left.

“ _Cas, what the hell?!_ ”

“Fairies.” Cas said finally and with a small sigh. Dean blinked. That was not the response he’d been anticipating.

“Wait, what?”

“The fae have a particular law that is similar regardless of which species of fairy you’re dealing with, the law of hospitality. It’s a little like the traditional vampire restriction of only being able to enter houses that they’ve been invited to, but this time it’s accurate.”

Dean felt his blood pressure rise. “Which is?” 

“If you accept hospitality from the fae then it is essential to follow their rules. The fae set great importance on forms of courtesy, etiquette, and the relationship of guest to host. Failure to do so results in what you could consider a breach in contract, with the appropriate fine in place.” 

Dean digested that. No wonder the vampire felt this was a safe place. Anyone moved outside of the host’s rules and complicated things happened, probably accompanied by glitter.

“And Sam is that fine?” he said hollowly. Fuck, he should have been the one to go exploring. 

“It would appear so.” Cas’ voice sounded even glummer than normal. 

“And where would they keep him?”

“This I do not know. Potentially it could be anywhere, from still on earth but shielded all the way to a different realm. The fae are powerful and I confess I do not know enough about them to judge where Sam would be.” Castiel looked back at him, downcast. “I doubt we will be able to find him without someone in the fae bringing him to us. You could try to fight them but I suspect all that would do is to guarantee they place him as far away from you as possible.”

Well, that was plans B-F down the pan, and the only reason it wouldn’t have fucked up plans G-Z was that he’d run out of weapon options. Dean felt sick.

“So what would they be doing with him?”

“I wouldn’t like to speculate.”

“ _Try_ ,” Dean snarled. Castiel eyed him for a moment before placing his hand on Dean’s shoulder and giving him a little awkward squeeze in what Dean reckoned was probably supposed to be comforting.

“No. You are upset, and speculating would probably make you even more so. Realistically, probably they will look to use him in some way, a worker or servant. It seems interesting that they are claiming the submissives, folk who would be reasonable at a particular level of servitude.” the angel fell silent before starting up again, his voice full of remorse. “I am sorry, Dean. I should have kept a closer eye on him.”

“I’ve been saying that phrase since I was a kid.” sighed Dean.

“No. I was the dominant, and he was my responsibility. You are both under my protection, and I have failed.”

And this was getting even more depressing. No, this was shit. No one was taking his brother from him, _no one_. Dean clasped his hand on Cas’ and stared back at him determinedly.

“We’re going to get him back.”

“Of course.” Castiel paused, and frowned. “How?”

That, of course, was the million dollar question. And worse? He hadn’t a clue.

*

His head hurt. His head _really_ hurt, pounding in his skull as though his brain was attempting to free itself, and for a few moments Sam couldn’t think of anything else. After a few moments the rest of the universe slowly came into shape, only to find its own issues. Sam slowly opened his eyes, wincing against the sharp light and then wincing again as he tried to move and suddenly found his body unable to go any further.

What the hell?

Sam growled softly, and tried to work out his current position. As it turned out, current position seemed to be ‘awkward’ and possibly ‘screwed’. His wrists were tied together. There was a metal collar thing that was loose enough to rest on his collarbone but looked disturbingly solid, a chain attaching said collar to a ring set in the smooth floor. Said floor had a drain in the corner, which was never a positive sign regardless of which fluid it was planning to drain.

Fantastic. Sam glanced down at himself. He was fully naked, but to be fair that was pretty much how he’d started off that evening. From the sharp throbbing on his cheekbone he suspected it was both bruised and cut, and there were already significant bruises and grazes showing on his arms and legs as though he’d fallen down the stairs and then done it a few more times just to make sure.

Had he got in a fight? He didn’t think so, but memories were still a bit of a blur. He could remember the dark and a sudden shock, but past that point nothing. He had no idea how long it had been and the room itself had no windows, although for some reason it did have a mirror set in one of the tiled walls near him. Well, that was probably another tick in the disturbing box. 

Panting, still grimacing, Sam moved to sink back against the wall, the coolness of the tiles a shock against the heat of his skin as he stared around himself. It was a small room, a mix between a cell and a shower room, and the light was provided by a source that he couldn’t quite see from above. The door seemed essentially smooth with no obvious way to open it from the inside.

He felt his heart sink a little lower. Great.

“Hello?” he tried a call but there was nothing but the echo of his own croaky voice. Doing well. Sam slowly allowed his head to tip back against the wall tiredly, only to discover that someone had installed a hook in the ceiling directly above his head when he opened them again. Well, that was encouraging.

And damn, he felt awful. Felt like he’d been run over and then beaten with baseball bats, and his head was still throbbing. Where the hell was he? And where were the others? 

A noise at the door brought him unsteadily to his feet, unbalanced by the hands behind his back and the additional throbbing that movement added to his day. A figure entered, followed by two others who immediately parked themselves in positions that screamed ‘guard’. For a moment Sam and his visitor stared at each other, the creature looking Sam up and down with critical eyes. 

“Is this the angel’s one?” the voice was slightly higher than Sam had been expecting, and clearly not aimed at him. One of the guards assessed a clipboard.

“His name is Sam Winchester.” 

“Mm.” another look. “Well, he’s fit enough. Tall bastard as well, I see. Powerful and pretty, I like that. The customer base for him should be varied.”

Sam wasn’t liking where this conversation was going already and it had been less than a minute. 

“Where am I?” His voice wasn’t much better but at least it was understandable.

“And apparently traditional.” sighed the figure, who finally studied him a little more. Sam did the same. Said figure was about six foot, skinny, and with an odd skin tone that seemed to shift every so often in the light. Fingers seemed just slightly too long, and the facial features were a little sharp. And the voice… no, Sam didn’t like the voice. That was a voice that sounded like gloating was a hobby.

Sure enough, the conversation continued on an uncomfortable path.

“Perhaps you should start your questions with ‘how much trouble am I in’. Where you are is somewhat immaterial, although I should really stop talking to the stock.” The figure aimed another side look at the creature with the clipboard. “What was the physical assessment like?”

“Initial signs are good. We were unable to do the rest of the checks until he woke up.”

“And here he is, awake. How fun!” the words rolled off the tongue and a cunning smile aimed itself at Sam. A finger click later and Sam’s wrists were suddenly and inexplicably attached to the hook on the ceiling, the tips of his toes the only thing connecting him to the floor. Gasping in shock and pain, Sam swung slightly and stared incredulously back.

Oh, this wasn’t good. Actually, no, waking up here wasn’t good. This was fucking terrible.

“Wait, _wait!_ This is a mistake, I don’t even know who you are.”

There was a soft sigh from the figure.

“No, there is no mistake in this. We have the paperwork for your ownership. You ever hear of those ye olde tales, back in the day? You need to follow the forest path closely, because if you drift, if you _stray_ , then the fairies will take you and you’ll never see your home again.” A small pleased smile. “Pity.”

His voice was weak. “What?”

“You went into a room that you weren’t allowed in.” translated the figure with exaggerated patience. “You strayed. You were officially a Bad Boy. Therefore the agreement is that you are now our property, to do with as we wish. Are we clear yet, or do you require diagrams?”

Sam’s head hurt even more. This was crazy. Actually, this was another crazy thing in a long line of crazy, but one thing at a time.

“But..,”

“Enough.” the figure was clearly becoming impatient. “Turn around and face the wall. The hook will move with you.”

Oh, and that was definitely not on the list of Things To Do. Sam stayed motionless, staring back at the figure with a steady glare. Said figure sighed, and this noise was tinged with a touch of annoyance.

“And it looks like we may need the training module on this one before he’s fit for sale. Pretty is all very well but he also needs to _follow orders_ ,” the figure stared back at him in annoyance. “What sort of submissive do you call yourself?”

“You’re not my dominant. Kindly go fuck yourself.”

Probably not the best thing to say but if you were going to go down then you might as well take some enjoyment where you could. There was a slightly incredulous look on the figure’s face before it clouded over. A finger circled idly and Sam suddenly found himself spinning round, hard enough for his head to complain again and his shoulder to start aching. Holy fuck, that was not a ride he wanted to try again. Ever.

Thankfully - possibly - the figure had found something to calm him down. There was a noise of appreciation and Sam stiffened as dry fingertips traced down his back and over the rise of his arm before squeezing the back of one thigh carefully as though checking how meaty he was. 

“Oh yes. Very pretty. Good lean muscles. Strong arms. Good thighs,” a hand slapped against Sam’s leg sharply. “And a shapely backside. I suppose it would be too much to ask for that he’s a virgin?”

Well, that wasn’t a question he’d had for a while. 

“Yes, I’ve had sex.” snapped Sam.

“Good to know but not the specific virginity I was thinking of.” 

And that definitely wasn’t the comment he was after. Sam shifted his weight but there was absolutely nowhere to go, and he was just about to start firing a few other questions if nothing more than to give himself time when there was a faint rustle and Sam yelped as two long fingers inserted themselves painfully within his ass. Fuck. _Fuck_. He tried to relax, but that was damned hard when he was very clearly being examined, each movement sending a burning, ripping feeling through him. Fighting back didn’t help either, as said intruder clearly didn’t care.

“Mm, tight enough. And he makes such lovely whimpering sounds, I like that. And aww, look at his face. That’s someone trying to be strong and brave and actually not feeling either,”

So that was what the mirror was for. Sam gritted his teeth and tried not to look into the mirror as the fingers lazily continued their exploration deep within him. God, it stung. Wasn’t anywhere near the torture he’d had in the past but it managed to get him in a way that Sam really, really hated. There was another soft noise of approval.

“There’s a few on our books looking for a strong but breakable type, yes indeed.”

Sam gasped again as the fingers withdrew, almost as quickly as they were inserted. There was a soft noise of interest, and then Sam stiffened as the hand moved to his front. Delicate fingers ran over his groin and squeezed his balls, right up to the point where Sam slammed his foot back in a solid kick. There was no impact but there was an irritated noise, and the voice that came next had lost its cozy charm.

“I see, it’s like that, is it? Like it or not, _you are ours_. And you _will_ do as you're told one way or the other. This is the easy route. We can easily take the harder one. In fact, the harder one is much more fun.”

“Leave me alone.” snarled Sam.

“Well, clearly my answer is going to be ‘no’. By god’s bones, what do you think this is?” the voice continued, and any satisfaction Sam gained by the bitterness in tone was offset by the implications of the actual words. “Get him trained up until he can behave himself in impolite company. I want him ready to be shown off at the next sale, and although people often want a project to beat into their own form he’s a little too big to let him take it at his own pace.”

“Level of damage?”

“Oh.” the figure said dismissively as he withdrew toward the door. “Whatever it takes.”

Sam sagged internally. Great. Just... great.


	3. Chapter 3

Well, they got the ticket. Why wouldn’t they? They were both adorable and based on Cas’ ability with a whip apparently angel school had a whole Discipline module. Coupled with that, they’d deliberately gone out of their way to perform and had gained such an audience that anyone would have thought they’d been giving out free money. Still didn’t make Dean feel that much better, though. Sam was missing and there was him being an Alternative Stripper.

He’d been kinda surprised about Cas, though. Sure, Castiel always gave the solemn, ‘thou must do’ feel, and took earnest so far that Oscar Wilde would be impressed, but even the angel’s current remorse and concern hadn’t stopped said angel from being a rock star for demonstration potential. When Dean had been uncertain, he’d felt Castiel’s hands on his limbs all but moving them for him, guiding him to the equipment. Firm but gentle hands landed on his to strap him to the structure which apparently was a St Andrew’s cross for added irony. Or perhaps fae didn’t do irony. Was there such a thing as coppery? Did that joke even work verbally? He didn’t know. Didn’t care either. Bigger things were at hand, and one of them held a whip.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Castiel had murmured before they had begun, and Dean remembered giving him an incredulous look back for even asking the question. Ready? Of course he was ready. This might be a completely random way to carry out a job, but at least it was something he was actually doing to help out. Much better than pacing at the motel room to wait for a Big Boss that might never turn up. 

“Yeah,” he breathed back, and offered a shaky grin. “Give me hell.”

“Given my position, that would be complicated. I might be able to arrange a day pass.” Castiel had replied, and for a moment Dean actually thought the angel was serious until a small smile aimed itself back at him. Oh. Well, Cas was learning jokes. He was so proud. 

“Forgive me, master, for I have sinned,” Dean offered a small lopsided grin back. Castiel raised an eyebrow.

“And that would be the understatement of the century.”

Dean had huffed a laugh, and remembered the touch of Cas’ hand on his face again before the angel moved to the back… front .. business end of the cross and Dean’s hands had gripped the restraints in readiment. He might not have done this for pleasure before but this was fucking familiar, even down to the scent of the leather and the way the cross creaked under his weight. His whole life seemed to revolve around gaining bruises, it seemed only right that his private life might get ideas from the fight.

Still, it was an experience. Sam had beaten him in the past but it was always rough and organic, and often formed from whichever items they had lying around whether that be rope or belt or just Sam’s wide, large hand. Here? Here was _professional_ , with an array of items that almost seemed excessive and yet Castiel was apparently comfortable with all of them. He would show each of them to Dean before its use, although Dean wasn’t entirely sure whether this was due to education, teasing or showmanship. The audience lapped it up, anyway.

First had been a full blown flogger, one with a handle the width of a cucumber and deceptively soft, long leather strands that were caressed over his muscles gently before Cas brought it back and landed the first blow on tense skin. The noise had been solid but the impact surprisingly tame in comparison to his imagination, a slapping sting more than anything. Of course that was only the first of many, the flogger building up to a crescendo with rhythmic beat that landed across the whole of his back and ass, over and over again until it turned into a stinging warmth that was weirdly relaxing.

Next came a relatively harmless looking riding crop, and Dean had raised an eyebrow unimpressed when Castiel had shown it to him. That had proven to be a mistake. The first blow was sharp and precise and for a heartbeat there was nothing at all until the pain roared through his nerves and sent shock waves through his body. The resulting gasp didn’t need any playing up, and by the sixth one Dean was actively shifting his body away from the blows with a whimper. Fuck, those _hurt!_

The paddles were a reasonable go between, excessively loud and solid and all but pushing him into the equipment, but spread it over a larger area and in comparison to the evil crop it was a breeze. Well, mostly. The more that were added, the more genuine the vocalisations, whether that be growls, snarls, yelps, gasps, the occasional howl. Cas seemed to know exactly which ones were real and which were pushing it, and adjusted the power and location of his blows to fit. By the end of it, Dean’s entire back and ass were inflamed, tingling and throbbing and sore and yet weirdly satisfied as he gasped for oxygen and felt the trickle of sweat weave its way down his back. He’d had full gym workouts that were less strenuous. 

Of course the demonstration wasn’t all physical grr. They were fucking amazing. Dean had deliberately played it up to the audience, his back arching, deliberately tensing oiled muscles to make it look all that much better for those who wanted to fuck him, and adding more snarls of pain and gasped whimpers for those who were just keen to see him suffer in a bad way. Not that he minded. Sam had gone again. This was his penitence, in a way. 

Dean wasn’t the only one who was playing it up; Castiel was clearly in his element, delicately pausing for the full effect of a particularly vicious swing and keeping the rhythms up so smoothly that it was almost musical. Every so often he added a little bit of comfort every so often by stroking his fingertips down Dean’s trembling back or across his ass, partly to show off the impact and partly to give Dean a chance to recover during these artistic moments. It was also kinda nice, connection on a team work level that sent a shiver down Dean’s spine that he actually hoped no one noticed.

His skill with the hardware was also without question. The angel’s use of the floggers was almost acrobatic, at one point using two in a stunning display of ambidexterity as the floggers flowed neatly between each other as they kissed his already sensitive skin with sharp little bites at ridiculous speeds. Each blow was timed perfectly, both to enhance the impact and increase the dramatics until Dean could see the look of wonder on those of the audience who had snuck to the side in order to see his face. 

Oh yeah, they were amazing. By the time Cas had finished - and it must have been at least forty five minutes worth of solid play - they were the main attraction in the area, and Dean only partly acted as he was eased from the equipment. The rest was all real. His body had wanted to crumple and his mind wanted to sleep or snuggle or do something that he really didn’t want to do in front of an audience, and Cas had had to help him from the room before he embarrassed them both. The angel didn’t even let him drive; they took one step outside the club and Cas had vanished them both back to the motel, Dean suddenly finding himself with a warm and welcome mattress under his battered ass.

“Baby-.”

“It’s outside.” Castiel correctly identified car rather than personal endearment. 

Okay. Okay. Dean allowed his eyes to close for a moment before sighing softly and pushing himself off the bed. Or at least that had been the plan, anyway. Cas stepped in front of him swiftly with the look of an angel that was regretting he didn’t have a flaming sword on his person.

“No. You need sleep.”

“Cas, I need some alcohol and I need to pace.” Dean pointed out, quite reasonably he thought. The angel’s expression didn’t improve.

“This isn’t a request.” 

Dean stared at him for a moment and then snorted a not-massively impressed laugh. Oh, no. He was getting the whiskey and he was getting a straw and he was drinking the whole damned lot, possibly with a few breaths in between mouthfuls. Besides, sleep was the last thing he needed. His thoughts were bad enough as it was without his subconscious deciding to alter it into some dramatic nightmare

Dean was just about to say that, still moving off the bed when the angel cleared the space between them with a determined glint in his eye. Dean’s mouth opened in a protest but Cas had pressed his finger to Dean’s temple and suddenly everything just switched off.

_  
… he could already hear Sam’s laugh, light and like a kid again. Dean shivered, offering a small mock growl as Sam grabbed hold of him from behind and pressed a hot, wet kiss to his neck as his equally hot naked body pressed against Dean’s back._

_“Gonna let me in, Dean?” Sam breathed in his ear, his hardness pressing against Dean’s ass insistently. Dean tried to growl back again but only ended up huffing a laugh, lazily pushing back with his body and deliberately circling his hips to maximise frustrations for his little brother._

_“I dunno. You been good?”_

_A kiss landed on his shoulder. “The best.”_

_“You sure?” Dean teased, but his words hitched in his throat as Sam’s hand crept around and began to slowly stroke his achingly hard cock with a practised, slow movement. Ah, man, that was too damned good, and Dean’s eyes flickered closed helplessly._

_“Yeah,” his voice wasn’t even his own anymore, rough and desperate. “Fuck me.”_

_There was another light laugh and Sam’s hand picked up the speed, giving a little squeeze every so often and running his thumb over the sensitive tip of Dean’s cock just to really torment him. Dean widened his legs further, a little whine-plea in his throat, and was ridiculously relieved when Sam took him up on his offer._

_They were getting better at this, faster and more confident; and Sam lined up easily. Dean was about to shout something back, get him to damn well move his ass, when Sam finally started to push in. Fingers clenched in the grass underneath them but this was good, this was *great*, and Dean whimpered again at the burning stretching as his brother slowly slid deeper inside him._

_“Good boy.” breathed Sam, and damned right he was a good boy, he was made for this, and Dean squeezed with his muscles to grip Sam even tighter and making him gasp for air. And after that it was yet another blur, a slow but steady rhythm being built as Sam began to work. A slight alteration in angle and another hard thrust and Dean all but howled in sensation, a burst of pleasure running through him so hard that it was borderline painful. Painful and yet addictive, like a toothache that just had to be poked with a tongue, and Dean squirmed and begged for another._

_Didn’t take long, not at all, and Dean felt dazed as Sam thrust harder and harder in him, finding the perfect angle each time until his lower half was so sensitive that he couldn’t tell where one sensation stopped and the other began. One last stroke-squeeze from Sam at the same time as a thrust caused full meltdown, Dean crying out loudly as his whole body froze for a second and then came in a shuddering mess, Sam coming soon after as Dean’s body clamped down on him even harder._

_Panting, gasping, slick from sweat and sticky from come, Dean had to struggle to remain on all fours rather than collapse on the ground but who cared and the world seemed that much better. He pressed back against his equally exhausted brother, who nuzzled against his neck and chuckled again._

_“Guess we might need that swim after all,” he whispered.  
_

Dean stirred and smiled in his sleep, squirming slightly and pressing a little closer to Sam’s leg that was next to him. So good. His hand slid over his firm thigh, Dean yawning as he gently kneaded it and tried to find the best spot for him to use said leg as a pillow. This was damned hard, as it turned out. His hand moved again, following the line of leg and finding it strangely clothed. Clothes? Had Sam already gone out?

Dazed, blinking in the low light as he finally managed to get his eyes open, Dean first gazed at a seemingly black fabric-ed thigh that his hand rested on, and then uncertainly looked upward.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean jumped and almost screamed something but thankfully managed to turn it into more of a yelp, wide eyes staring at the figure beside him who was comfortably resting back against the headboard and giving him an expectant look as though Dean had fallen asleep mid-sentence.

“Cas, fucking hell.” Dean’s eyes closed wearily for a moment. “You scared the life out of me.”

The angel looked a little surprised for a moment, and then contrite. “I’m sorry. I thought this would be the best place to watch over you.” 

Dean hesitated. “What, since we came back? You were watching me sleep all nig…,” he checked the time and then winced. Oh yeah. “..day?”

“It seemed the most appropriate action.” Castiel paused and thought about it. “You mumble in your sleep. It’s quite sweet.”

Dean winced slightly, not wanting to know what he was mumbling about. And fuck, how much did he touch Cas? He glanced at the thigh that was pretty much next to his nose and flushed slightly; he’d thought it was Sam and he knew damned well which part of Sam his hands automatically drifted to. But still Cas wasn’t commenting or looking sheepish/angry/emotion-ally, so that had to be a good sign he wasn’t doing anything bad, right?

“You did drool a bit on my thigh.” Cas added, helpfully.

Argh. Well, there went his bad man image. Dean flushed and shifted, before suddenly realising that the pain he’d expected to flare up was suddenly extremely quiet. Dean frowned, squirmed a little more to check, and then looked up.

“Hey, did you heal me?” his voice was accusatory. Castiel looked perplexed for a moment.

“Yes. Is that an issue?”

“Yes, it is! I wanted those bruises!” Damned right he wanted those. He’d earned them. They were badges, and they were signs they’d been doing their best to get back his brother. Stealing them was an asshole move.

There was another hesitation as the angel tried to calculate the current situation. Finally he licked his lip and frowned at Dean.

“You _want_ to hurt?” he repeated, slowly, just in case it made sense a second time.

“Exactly. Put them back.” Dean demanded, shifting position and then suddenly realising the other element under the blankets. “And I’m naked.”

“You often are.” agreed the angel, still bewildered. “It appears to be a habit.”

Dean made a soft snort and pushed himself up on the bed, glancing at the still fully clothed and fully trench-coated angel settled comfortably beside him before turning his gaze to Sam’s coat that was still resting on the nearby chair and feeling his energy ebb away as he remembered what they still needed to do. He closed his eyes wearily. Fuck. What the hell _were_ they going to do? Demons, things that went ‘rah!’ in the night, all of those tended to have general answers, and often said answer was ‘hit it hard until it falls over’. Contracts? Contracts were bastards. 

“We’ll find him.” came the soft if rough voice beside him. 

“Did we work out the ‘how’ yet?” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers and let them fall again. The only thing they had going for them was being able to talk to the ‘owner’ - whatever that would turn out to be - and negotiation wasn’t exactly his strong point. 

“There is always a price.” 

“And said price is normally fucking scary.” Dean countered softly. “Can’t we just steal him back?”

“We’d have to work out where he is first, and even then the remainder of the plan requires expanding from ‘steal Sam’.” Castiel replied doubtfully, then turned his attention to Dean again. “And you are exhausted.”

“I am not!”

A disbelieving look aimed itself at him. Dean scowled back again. Okay, so he wasn’t entirely 100%, but he’d just woken up from a daytime sleep and it had been pretty damned energetic the previous evening. He was allowed to look a little rough around the edges.

“You’re certainly not going out anywhere until you’ve eaten something.” 

“Do you want me to brush my teeth as well, Dad?” Dean countered angrily. The angel paused for a moment with a frown.

“Yes. Yes, I do. And to take a shower.” 

They eyed each other silently for a moment. Cas was still wearing a slightly strict expression, but Dean reckoned that was almost inbuilt. The parental concern? That was technically new, but it felt really damned similar. Dean felt the angel was two heartbeats away from checking his temperature - hopefully orally - and making sure that his shoes still fit correctly.

“We’re not at the club anymore. You don’t have to do this,” Dean said firmly but softly. “You’re not my dominant, and I’m a fucking terrible submissive,”

“We may not be at the club but my task is still incomplete and therefore I will be looking after you. And rough around the edges you might be, we still earned a second day ticket purely on our activities. This suggests that you might not be as fucking terrible as you proclaim.” Castiel eyed him. “And I am proud to be your dominant.”

He hadn’t been expecting that. Dean looked bewildered. “Really?”

“Yes.” It was said matter of fact, as though as solid a fact as the sun itself.

“Oh.” Dean didn’t know how to take that. Ordinarily that would be ‘suspiciously’, but there was no hidden surprise in Castiel. Currently what he saw was what he got, and the look was patient, protective and clearly a personal mission. For whatever reason, Dean was pretty sure he’d got adopted, and he wasn’t entirely sure he didn’t like the sensation. 

“If you’re trying to go down the parent route then you should know I’m a fucking terrible kid as well.” Dean said, a little roughly.

“I also disagree.” Cas said calmly. 

“... why?” 

“Because I feel you’re a poor judge of character, especially when it comes to yourself,” Cas crossed his ankles neatly. “Give yourself a fracture.”

Dean paused to work that one out. “Break.” he corrected.

“Similar enough.” Cas seemed untroubled by vocabulary, eyes casual on Dean as though this was a completely normal day. Dean hesitated.

“Why _did_ you agree to be our dominant?” he asked slowly. 

“Because you asked.” Cas replied, as though this was blatantly obvious. “And I was .. curious.”

“Curious?” Dean repeated. Castiel’s eyebrows managed to signify a little shrug had just occurred, still perfectly calm. It was oddly relaxing. Sam was normally a little bundle of burning energy even if he was researching, a 6ft 4 puppy with a mission, and their father had always been… well, intense. Driven. Occasionally unpredictable, if he was even around. Cas? Cas looked like he was where he wanted to be.

“I cannot say that the idea of disciplining you both didn’t seem a little counter-intuitive, but it was also surprisingly therapeutic. Angels have watched over mortals for some time now, and often there’s the desire to shake some sense into their charges. I appear lucky enough to be able to do that, and with added accessories.”

Dean digested that further. “What about sex?”

Castiel blinked. “What, now?” his voice was even more incredulous.

“Whoa, no! No, no, … no.” Dean wasn’t sure he wanted to look into that thought for fear of what he would find. Was he mad or did Cas look a little disappointed? It was hard to tell. Dean felt a weird need to soothe him and found his hand patting Castiel on the thigh gently.

“I didn’t mean that. I meant..,” he wasn’t sure what he’d meant at all. The angel waited patiently.

“You’re wondering whether I would have gone through with any real sexual encounter other than the few kisses we shared?” 

“Yes! Exactly.” Dean jumped on that as though it was a lifeline in a sea of lava. 

“I do not know.”

“Oh.” Bit of a let down, that. “Did you want to?”

“I do not know that, either.” Castiel looked down at Dean’s hand on his thigh and sighed softly. “Dean, I am thousands of years old. I have not entered into what you would consider a relationship between partners for some time. I am rusty. So I am not certain what I feel.”

“You sure?” Dean frowned at him. “Because if you’re uncertain then that kinda suggests you’re feeling something different, and then all you gotta do is work out whether it’s negative or positive. It’s like putting a new topping on a burger. Does it improve the flavour? Then I like it. Do I spend more time fishing it out or eating around it? Then I don’t.”

Cas looked at him quietly for a moment. “The burger-love theory is not one that I’m familiar with.”

“Did we - me and Sam - improve the flavour of your burger?”

Castiel considered that for a moment with deliberate care. “I believe so.”

“Then there you go. I am the bacon to your cheeseburger.” Dean offered him a grin. “And Sam’s your onion. Harmless looking but makes you cry if you cut it.”

Cas considered this even further, his brow furrowing briefly as he worked out the mental calculations. “I am losing track of how this relates to sex.”

“To be honest, same here. But at least you seemed to enjoy things.” Dean adjusted his position on the bed again before glancing at the clock. Several hours before they could get back to the club and find his missing onion. He gnawed on his bottom lip for a moment, trying to work out the argument they’d go for. No fake ID was going to get past the owner. This needed tact and diplomacy and he was really not up for that.

“Would you have coupled with me if asked?” Castiel asked after a pause.

Dean’s head was dragged back into the conversation at the speed of a greased cheetah out of a catapult. There was a look of bewilderment in Dean’s eyes for a moment as he thought about this.

“Had sex? Uh…. well. At the start of the evening,” he said slowly. “If the situation was right and it wasn’t in the middle of everyone’s dinner, then… well… yeah. I think so. Not when Sam was missing, though. Head just wanted to be quiet. Pain gives me something else to think about, you know?”

There was a shared silence as both considered what had been said. Dean was half waiting for the query of ‘and now?’, still not sure whether he wanted to hear it or not, but Castiel was quiet, still clearly thinking. 

“Good.” he said, finally. 

Dean didn’t know how to translate that. Castiel watched him for a moment and then smiled and gently gestured toward the shower.

“Get clean, brush your teeth and hair and then come back out for a meal, otherwise I will utilise my dominant privileges to persuade you to do so.”

Dean digested that statement. “I’m half tempted not to do anything to see what you do.”

“I would not recommend it.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. And you still haven’t added those marks back again.” he added. Castiel sighed and gently pressed his finger to Dean’s shoulder again, and a little shudder worked its way through his body. The full length mirror proudly showed off the red welts that still decorated his ass. “Better.”

“You are an odd creature.”

“Thank you.”

*

Sam had no idea how much time had passed. It felt like weeks though, periods of uncomfortable rest broken up by a series of ‘sessions’ that seemed to get progressively worse as time went on. He wasn’t even sure what they were really trying to train him to do, little bits and pieces here and there before moving onto something completely different. Punishments were so regular that he wasn’t sure whether it was just something they did rather than connected to any of his own behaviour. Every so often he would receive a bowl of what he really hoped was stew and some water but his hunger didn’t allow him to be picky. He was still hungry though, desperately so, and it didn’t look like it was going to get better any time soon.

For that matter, nothing seemed to be getting better any time soon. He’d hoped for Dean to come crashing through the door at any point, but as each sleep finished Sam was getting less and less certain his brother would find him. Hell, even he had no idea where he was. He’d tried putting his ear to the wall, trying to hear any hums of the event or the building, but it was both ice-cold and utterly solid. If this was still the warehouse area then clearly they were into the whole bunker aesthetics. 

And yet the training continued, Sam learning to cringe as soon as the door opened. So many sessions, bruises on top of bruises, but many of them never leaving a physical mark. And then there were the ‘key’ sessions, the ones with some dedicated time and those were the ones he really dreaded.

One session to ‘remove his stubbornness’ as he was hoisted to a large shining butcher’s hook from the ceiling and whipped with thin, sharp rods that felt like they were cutting through his skin at each blow but failed to leave even a mark. They’d not stopped until he was crying out at each blow, screaming as they lifted his feet and whipped the bottom of his soles without pause or rest. 

One session to teach him words, languages he didn’t know, and punishing him with a blindingly hot iron poker against his thighs if he mistook a ‘sit’ for a ‘kneel’ until he was begging on the floor.

One session to remove any last remaining specks of his dignity, spread eagled naked in the centre of the room and every inch inspected and touched and probed. 

One session of starvation until a plate was finally placed in the centre of the room with the strict instructions to eat without his hands. He’d licked up every morsel without complaint, hands and knees on the cold floor as he desperately tried to eat it before they took it away. The water did not make an appearance for what felt like a day later, until his throat was raw and his voice broken and he could all but smell it. The taste of the water as he swallowed was probably one of the most beautiful sensations of his life.

One session of insanity, the room set to blackness and the whispers and laughter and rumours milling all around him from places he couldn’t identify. Lights flickered, voices of familiar people - Dean, Bobby, Castiel, hell, even his father - and for the first few minutes he had felt a flicker of hope that someone had found him until reality crashed into him. No one was coming, that was painfully clear.

One session to locate the most sensitive points of his body and slowly, deliberately, with extreme joy, insert needles deep into them. He had been told that his eyes were only spared so he could be pretty for the trade market, and for a moment, just for a moment, he thought that even that might not save him. 

It was the seventh session that the figure finally came back to him, the tall, weasel type of man with dark hair, slightly purplish eyes and his long and somewhat spindly fingers.. Not quite human, that was certain, but what it was - what any of it was - he had no idea. And he didn’t care, he really didn’t. Could be a walking jellyfish for all it mattered.

For a moment they looked at each other wordlessly, the creature standing a few steps in the doorway and Sam crouched in a corner, his breathing already strained and adrenaline racing through his system so badly that it was hard to stay still. 

“Progress?” the word was tossed to another figure that had followed him in, and Sam stiffened in anticipation. Oh, he knew that one. That was the one who kept beating him with sticks, zapping him with whatever the hell it was and forcing him into difficult stretched positions for lengths of time until his body screamed at him and he was a shaking mess pleading to stop. Exercises, they had called it. The casual day to day stuff. 

Sam shivered and watched them silently. The heavier set man nodded.

“Doing well.” 

“Elaborate.” the purple gaze turned to Sam again critically. “Will he now undertake simple instructions without needing some force? Has he learned to control his tongue? Is he now a _good boy_?”

Sam suspected all of that speech was for his own benefit. He stared back at him wordlessly. He knew what he should be doing, and that was behaving himself. They’d win eventually, and the quickest way to escape was almost certainly outside of this room. On the other hand, the guy was an asshole and the burning need to tell him to shove it up whichever orifice was appropriate was a damned strong one. Was this what Dean felt like every day? Perhaps his brother had a point.

“Hmm.” The figure was studying him again. “If I didn’t know better I’d question that look in his eyes.”

“It’s bravado. Pick up a whip and he crumbles.” the other replied dismissively. Sam felt his teeth grate a little more, but didn’t risk making a movement. The figure noticed the huddle and smiled sweetly, walking a little closer to study him.

“Mm. Well, perhaps there is some light at the end of the tunnel.” hand lifted and snapped a finger, the weight of the chain vanishing immediately. Sam rubbed his neck with a hand and looked cautiously up to meet an expectant look coming the other way.

“Well, _Sam_ , let us see what you have learned.” the figure cocked his head to one side. “Stand up.”

A slightly narrowed look but Sam slowly and stiffly pushed himself to his feet. Standing he could do. There was another narrowed look, most likely due to lack of grace. 

“Turn around,” came the order. He could hear Dean’s voice in his head complaining about dance moves, and Sam smiled to himself ruefully. But still, being out of the room was better than in, and he turned slowly, Sam staring at the wall in front of him as he tried not to focus on what was happening behind his back.

“Hands on the wall. Bend over.” 

And there was a very long pause with that one. Sam’s jaw tightened. Stupid, really. They’d beaten, thrashed and broken his body multiple ways, violated and inserted, and yet following orders to put himself into whatever chaos they chose felt worse. Like he was volunteering for the damned thing. 

“ _This_ is obedient? His owner would die of old age before he even gets the first thrust in.”

Sam’s teeth gritted again. One hand rested on the wall and he was just about to move again when a burning agony laced across his back. Falling forwards and propping himself up against the wall, Sam flinched again as another one landed hard, stinging sharply as it sliced through his skin. 

Panting softly, he rested his forehead against the wall as he tried to recover.

“You get two seconds. Move.”

Sam growled softly but pushed himself off, hesitating for the smallest of seconds before placing his hands on the wall and cautiously bending over slightly. Defiant was all very well but dead was a bastard to come back from. He could already feel the blood on his back, not much but enough to point out that his captor was not fucking around.

“About time.” a rough hand ran itself over his back again, testing his muscles and sending a hissing pain of fire through his body as it carelessly moved over open wounds in its assessment. Sam felt his eyes water and bit harder on his bottom lip to shut himself up. Fuck, if they told him they were rubbing in salt he’d damn well believe it.

The hand withdrew, and the momentary relief was ruined almost instantly.

“Now, spread your legs and grab your ankles.” the figure turned. “Cilvil, if you could do the honours.”

Oh, fuck no. Sam straightened his back, and glared at the tiled wall. Not a fucking chance and- 

-and he was suddenly picked up by an invisible force and smashed against the side wall, then ceiling, back again, moving so damned quickly he didn’t know what the hell he was hitting but he could feel every impact, bruising adding to bruising and scrapes. Half way through his head hit something on the way past and the world got even more blurred, the pain in his head only equalled by his back.

Finally he was pressed against the wall, feet dangling and a pressure against his windpipe as the figure strode forward again with his eyes blazing.

“I am _very_ disappointed in you, Sam. We had such great things lined up for you, a hunter no less.” the pressure increased even further until Sam was seeing stars. “Let me emphasise this, there are many, many worse places you could be ending up. If I don’t see any improvement immediately then I’m going straight for the castration route and aiming for a completely different clientele, _do I make myself clear?!_ ”

Sam gave a small nod, still gasping for air. The figure eyed him for a moment before releasing the force that was holding him up, Sam crashing to the floor in a crumpled heap of blood and sweat. Panting heavily, he shifted his body back toward the wall automatically, as though the extra few centimeters might in some way give him some advantage.

“So, let’s try again. Get up, hold your ankles and you will do it with speed, grace and a fucking smile on your face otherwise-,”

The door to the room swung open again, but Sam didn’t care as he recovered his breath. 

“Girvin,” came a voice, and that voice seemed weirdly familiar. “How lovely to see you again.”

Well, at least it had put everything on pause. Blood trickling down his face slowly, Sam blinked toward the door, but the figure - Girvin? - was blocking much of his view and blood was not helping in his eye. He wiped it with the back of his hand and crouched a little closer to the wall.

The figure known as Girvin sighed softly. “Gabriel.”

Sam looked up, surprised. Gabriel? Well, he guessed it was a common enough name, to a certain extent. Not all Gabriels were going to be angel linked, and … and..

His gaze finally fell on the man who had entered, Sam staring at him incredulously for a moment as he tried to work out whether that was reality or concussion. The Trickster stared back at him for a moment with a scrunched up frown of concentration.

“Well,” he said, mostly toward the room at large. “this is annoying.”

“Gabriel.” The name was repeated by Girvin, a little harder.

There was a small little bow. 

“The very same.” the Trickster said. “And if you say my name a third time I’m sure some interesting magical effect will happen. Perhaps you’d get 50% off the next visit to Dennys, who knows. The world is wonderful like that.”

The look on Girvin’s face suggested that this assessment of the world did not tally with his own current view. A small lift of the head, a watchful expression, a curiosity toward where this was going.

“This is an unexpected visit.”

“Unexpected pleasure, surely.” drawled Gabriel.

“Considering what happened last time, I doubt it.” Girvin lifted his head a little more as the Trickster moved closer to Sam before Girvin stepped in the way. “No.”

“No?” There was mock surprise in Gabriel’s voice, his tongue rolling around the word as though unfamiliar with the concept. They studied each other for a moment longer before Sam’s captor gave a soft sigh and folded his arms.

“Well. We could carry on this pantomime, or we could perhaps cut to the part where you explain _why_ you have entered my premises. I’m not going to touch on the how for my own sanity, I’ve got a headache enough as it is.”

“Sounds sensible. I’m here because you have my boy, and I’m actually quite miffed about it.” The Trickster sounded as casual as he always did, although Sam did note a tiny tightening around the eyes. 

A short silence followed this announcement. Sam stared at him incredulously, uncertain how he’d ended up with the title of ‘his boy’ but given the options wasn’t about to complain. The Trickster might have weird shit up his sleeves - hopefully not literally - but at least he’d never threatened to castrate him. In fact, what with his obsession on his sex life, probably quite the opposite.

“Your boy?” Girvin replied politely.

“My boy. Him. The bleeding tall one over there with the floppy hair and the puppy dog eyes and the probably filthy mouth, his brother is such a bad influence on his language.” Gabriel replied cheerfully. “You can’t have missed him, not least because that’s a terrible way to torture someone.”

Sam’s captor raised his head a little more, fingers tapping against his arm impatiently.

“I have paperwork to say he’s mine.”

“He was on loan.” Gabriel replied carelessly. “They had no right to put him up as collateral.” 

As he was speaking he was moving forward, ignoring the other figures in the room as he crouched down beside Sam and looked at him thoughtfully. Sam stared back at him uncertainly, still crouched in his position against the wall and completely bewildered with the current situation. Was this a rescue? Did that even make sense with the cast list?

His eyes grew wider as Gabriel gently placed the tips of his fingers against Sam’s face and gently moved it to one side in order to study the gash. The Trickster’s lips pursed in concentration, before his gaze travelled down Sam’s naked and beaten form critically.

“What the hell were you doing with him?” he said in a genuinely bewildered voice. “This seems to be like keying your own car.”

“His obedience needed work.”

Sam would have liked to think there was defensiveness in Girvin’s voice but he was doubtful; his captor was too comfortable in the thought that Sam was his, to do with as he liked. If he wished to destroy him then this was perfectly fine too.

There was a soft snort from Gabriel at this assessment.

“That’s… ah, what’s the polite term for bullshit? Either way, Sam’s a beacon of perfect behaviour when he’s with me, although that may simply be because he is _my_ pet.” Gabriel gently seized Sam’s chin again and frowned in concern at the injuries, and in the face of even the slightest hint of kindness Sam had a strange, horrible feeling he wanted to cry. It had been long, lonely and painful. Blinking back a rogue and traitorous tear that thankfully never saw light of day, Sam was conscious of Gabriel giving him a small but warm smile before the fingers moved back.

For a moment Sam didn’t know what was wrong with his current picture, and then suddenly realised his body no longer hurt. Sure, the bruises were there, the cuts were there, but they all seemed window dressing. Bewildered, he looked back up again slowly, only to notice another little winning smile from Gabriel. Oh. Okay. Well, perhaps angel was a contender after all.

“I’m assuming you’re not just going to give him back,” Gabriel tossed over his shoulder at Girvin. There was an incredulous snort.

“Are you kidding me? You know the price he could raise for me, even if he’s still an obstinate little bastard. He’s young, pretty, peak condition, and has a reputation that means he’d still be valuable to someone even if they keep him in a cage for their visitors to gawk at.” 

“If you treated him better you could get an even bigger sum for him.”

“I could. But I don’t want to, because he makes such lovely noises when he’s suffering. Very expressive eyes, ‘your boy’, particularly when he’s servicing someone sexually. Hatred and fear and sorrow all in one not particularly compact body.” Girvin’s voice was still polite but had a definite edge to it.

Sam could see Gabriel’s expression and it had lost its cosiness. 

“I see.”

“I’m sure you do.” Grivin cocked his head to one side, half curious, half bored. “I have a number of interested buyers for him.”

“Do you indeed?” Gabriel rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “And you think the risk is worth it? I mean, him being a hunter and all. If you haven’t got him fully under control, there’s always the chance that he might .. well… get over enthusiastic again. Be terrible if your house were to come under question because you’d sold a dangerous boy to an unprepared host. Just because things are cute doesn’t mean they’re house-trained.”

Girvin shrugged slightly. “They’re aware of his pedigree.” 

“Pedigree? Oh how wonderful, it’s like a dog show. Does he come if you whistle?” Gabriel raised his eyebrow in interest. “Because he does for me, don’t you Sammy?”

Sam wasn’t entirely sure what the correct answer to that one was, so he bowed his head respectfully and hoped that was the right thing to do with wherever the conversation was leading. He really hoped it wasn’t leading into an orgy.

“Yes, master.” he said softly.

“You see? He’s a very good boy, but a one angel sort of boy.”

“Other than the friend you loaned him to,” Girvin replied drily.

“Well, yes, but the friend owns the brother and we like to give them play dates.” Gabriel paused and frowned. “Where _is_ the brother, by the way? If you’ve done this to my poor boy I can only assume you’ve ended up skinning the elder one. You know the one I mean. About so high, hero complex, daddy issues, thinks he’s batman, bit of a smirk that you want to wipe off his face every so often.”

Sam looked up, waiting, feeling his heart in his mouth. Girvin shrugged dismissively.

“He is with his owner.”

Sam almost sagged with relief. Thank god for that. Gabriel, on the other hand, was utterly incredulous.

“Wait, you only took _one_ of the Winchesters? That’s like stealing one part of a bookend. Sure, it’s pretty to look at by itself but it only really works when you have both of them.” 

An unimpressed look was coming the other way from Girvin. Gabriel held out his hands again.

“Girvin, please. You know me. In fact, you know me so well I seem to recall you have some significant debt with me, don’t you?” 

A strangely relaxed look crossed Girvin’s face, and Sam had a sneaking suspicion the man.. creature… whatever had been just as uncertain where the conversation had been heading as Sam had. There was a soft chuckle and he shook his head.

“Not enough to purchase him. Or, at least, not without some added payment.”

Sam wasn’t sure whether he should risk being encouraged by that for fear of it all being an elaborate ruse to rise and then dash his hopes. 

“Fine. I’ll top it up.” Gabriel replied calmly. Girvin studied him for a moment longer then smiled politely.

“Show me.”

“Show you a debt? That’s a bit weird, isn’t it?”

“Not the debt, or the payment. Show me this wonderful obedience of his.”

“Oh, I see.” Gabriel looked thoughtful for a moment before looking at Sam, and then looking around the barren tiled room with slight distaste. “Although this really isn’t the room for that type of activity. He’s a pedigree, not a street dog.”

“There’s an event today, in fact.” Girvin carried on smoothly. “Perhaps we should use that to display his skills.”

Oh. Good. Sam wasn’t sure whether the sick feeling in his stomach was relief or nervousness. Gabriel, on the other hand, seemed completely nonplussed by the suggestion and merely shrugged as though they were talking about nothing more than where to go for lunch 

“Well, wherever. What sort of elaborate demonstration are we talking here? My menu is pretty extensive, although given the state of my boy here we might have to skip the full course meal for a battered sausage.” The last comment was made with a pointed look at Sam and then back again.

“He stays as he is.”

Gabriel stared back at him incredulously. “Bruised and bloody? Look, I appreciate you like the more ...ah, _aggressive_ forms of play but this isn’t going to do my reputation any good whatsoever. I mean, look at him. He looks like he’s just had a cuddling match with a touch-phobic werewolf, and you know me. Just small scratches in my desk is a bugbear, let alone a pet who appears to have two broken ribs for starters.”

A genuinely amused look. “I didn’t take you for the squeamish type.”

“I didn’t take you as a fucking idiot, but here we are.” replied Gabriel sharply.

Sam winced internally and closed his eyes. Jesus, it was like having Dean here all over again, and just once, _just once_ could they walk out an open door without waggling their ass at the waiting lion? He didn’t dare look as the silence lengthened. Finally there was a soft grunt.

“Fine.” it was Girvin. “Fix the ribs and anything major. But I want him scruffed, bruised and scarred.” Another pause although now Sam was risking opening an eye. Girvin didn’t look furious but he didn’t quite look happy either, a small scornful look in his eyes. “And now you’re going to ask to speak with him alone, aren’t you?”

“And why would I need to do that?” Gabriel smiled and turned without bothering to look back at Sam. “I look forward to tonight. And think of the remainder of the price, please. I hate being in debt.”

And with that he was gone, leaving Sam with a whole lot to think about.


	4. Chapter 4

Two things were clear when they arrived back at the club; one, it wasn’t nearly as impressive the second time around, and two, Dean’s impatience was going to kill him. He was doing the best he could, outfit correct, oiled up, a step behind Castiel’s right shoulder at all times and keeping his eyes to himself, but every single aspect of his behaviour was being kept in check by a ridiculous amount of willpower. Every so often he was conscious of Cas giving him a careful look, as though checking he hadn’t exploded yet. It was a fair concern.

It was an even greater concern two hours later when they still hadn’t met the ‘owner’. Dean was a bundle of energy, needing to get going and _do_ something, and yet finding himself forced on his knees to wait and watch and wait some more. 

“We sure they’re actually coming?” Dean growled softly under his breath.

“The lady at the front desk advised that she was due around 1am. They would come to collect us,” Cas murmured back. “Are your shorts too tight?”

“I thought that was the whole point.”

“I ask because you’re fidgeting.”

“Sorry.”

“And you are not sorry.” 

Damned right he wasn’t sorry. If he couldn’t go ransack somewhere then fidgeting was the least he could have. Dean grumbled softly and mostly internally and bowed his head a little further, focusing in on the floor rather than the outside world and possible distractions. The possible distractions were not having any of it, and every so often Dean glanced slightly to the side as he watched venue staff activity with the eyes of a cat spotting mice. Cas sighed.

“You are not to hunt the employees either.”

Castiel was apparently made of rules tonight. Dean growled again. Half of him was tempted to really push things, spark off Cas’ dominant streak, get some sort of ‘demonstration’ going and then he’d have something to focus on other than the fact he was _still not doing anything_ , but the potential consequences were annoying. Might lose Sam. Might push Cas to the extent that the disapproving look was impossible to remove. Might be tied to something when he really needed to be able to fight.

Still, it was damned tempting if nothing more than stress relief.

Finally, _finally_ someone approached. 

“She will see you now.” a brisk but friendly voice. Dean forced himself to wait until Cas had stood, and then used the last of his patience to glance up at him for permission to stand. Damn, his willpower was going to be more bruised than his ass by the end of this. Cas gave a little short nod and Dean was up like a shot, waiting, adrenaline through him so much that Dean was surprised he wasn’t vibrating. 

It took a few minutes to be led through the rooms and out toward the corridor, and then through one of the privately marked doors that Dean hadn’t remembered seeing last time they were there. Saying that, right at this point he didn’t really care. At a particular door the staff member turned and smiled at them with the fixed, cheerful smile of one who had practised it regardless of whether it was a party or a war zone.

“She is waiting for you there. If I may.. I would strongly recommend not speaking until spoken to. She has very particular tastes.”

“Understood.” Cas gave a nod and gave Dean a warning look before opening the door and stepping into a smart office that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a high rise office building. Dean followed and carefully shut the door behind them, turning to study the woman who was sitting on a leather chair behind a desk reading some sort of report written on what appeared to be parchment. A name sign on the desk proclaimed her to be Aoife. 

Said woman finally looked up and studied them over the tops of her reading glasses. Dean estimated that she was probably mid-forties to fifty, a shorter woman with blonde hair and a bright red blouse and looking particularly normal. A glass of what appeared to be whisky sat to one side.

“I understand you wanted to speak to me.” she frowned at them. “You are aware I’m very busy.”

“I understand. We are here to request the recovery of a man who was forfeited yesterday, and understand that you might be able to consider this request.” Cas spoke calmly and Dean bit his tongue even harder. The woman stared back at him with the bemused look of someone who had just been advised that camels were about to grab semi-automatic weapons and take over the world.

“If he is forfeited then he is forfeited. That was the deal.” 

“We appreciate that, but we want to make a swap.” Dean cut in, a little breathlessly. Cas gave him an outraged look, and the woman’s expression wasn’t that much better. Her eyes moved to Cas and an eyebrow rose.

“He’s still learning, I assume.”

“He is. My apologies.” Cas replied. Dean wanted to strangle things.

“And what would you propose swapping?” she sat back against the chair and tapped her finger lightly on the desk. 

“You can take me for him.” Dean said almost immediately, ignoring the fact that Cas’ glare had found whole new levels to reach. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

Aoife studied him a little more, the finger still tapping.

“This seems to be a tradition of yours, Dean.” she commented idly. “Something happens, you immediately sell yourself. Is there really nothing of any other value you boys have before leaping to that choice?”

And she clearly knew them as well. Awesome. Dean growled to himself but continued on; it was too late to back out now, and it wasn’t as though they had Plan B anyway.

“Not really.” Dean stepped forward a little more. “Will you take it?”

“Dean.” Cas spoke quietly behind him, and the word had so much steel it could have sunk through the floor due to sheer weight. The woman’s eyes moved from Dean to Cas and then back again in amusement.

“I’m not sure your dominant is in agreement with your offer, sweetheart.”

Dean was about to say he didn’t care but that wasn’t right. He gave Cas a little look, one that was supposed to be strong and tell him this was the right thing to do but only really succeeding in a beseeching look. He had to do this. This was Sammy. 

There was a little pause as they considered each other. The expression on Cas’ face was still not much better but Dean was pleased that he didn’t look as though he was just about to drag him away. Still, there was a helpless look in Castiel’s eyes that Dean hated to see, a pained expression of a small child about to lose something very precious, and Dean forced himself to look back at the woman on the other side of the desk who was watching them idly.

“Well, that was adorable.” she commented, her voice still matter of fact. “But romantic drama aside, I can’t take you in exchange for your brother. I’m assuming that’s who you’re after, correct? Sam Winchester?”

“Why can’t you take me? I’m fit, I’m a hunter just like him, I can take anything you can throw at me.” Dean reined back in his voice from outraged to ‘determined’. There was a small polite smile.

“I’m sure you could, and I’m aware others have tried already on the throwing front, but one, I doubt whether we’d get anything better with you than him, and two, he belongs to a colleague of mine who was quite keen to work with him. The paperwork is out of my hands,” her finger tapped again as Aoife raised an eyebrow. “Anything else?”

Dean stared at her without any idea where next to take it. “Wait. I can get things for you, hunt stuff down, there must be _something_ you want for him? Pots of gold or something?”

“That’s leprechauns, or possibly dragons, and your desperation is showing, Dean.” still the tap-tap-tap of her finger. 

“Dean is right.” Castiel spoke up. “We do often have items at our disposal.”

“Oh joy, a quest. I haven’t seen one of those in several centuries.” her voice was dry. “No. I’m sorry, but I’ve learned my lesson on that one. And as I have mentioned before, he is not currently on the market.”

“Cream?” Dean guessed. There was a look that suggested that he was walking on very thin ice.

“Reputation,” Castiel said, finally. The finger paused, curious.

“Go on.”

“This business of yours depends on atmosphere and performance, does it not? We could increase your business within the supernatural world, plus ensure that you have interesting evenings.” Cas’ voice was calm, as though he hadn’t just offered themselves up as some weird stripping service. “If you give us Sam then he could potentially work with us while we reduce the debt.”

The woman’s look wasn’t encouraging but it was thoughtful, a look of one whose curiosity had been poked.

“Purely out of interest,” she said. “How far are you planning to go with that? Serious demonstrations, including blood? Orgies? Mixed partners?”

“Whatever it takes,” Dean’s voice was rough.

“So, for argument’s sake, let’s say I told _you_ ,” her finger aimed at Castiel. “To sew up Sam’s mouth and insert a long needle through one cheek to the other before hanging him from his wrists for others to play with, and _you_ ,” finger moved to Dean. “to install yourself within a contraption and take whatever punishment or sexual activity is given to you, you would both be quite satisfied to do such things?”

There was a small pause, but Dean gave a nod. Whatever it took. And besides which, once they had Sammy, who knew where it could go. Aoife eyed them again and then chuckled softly.

“I’m afraid I don’t really believe you. My money would be that you’d behave yourselves for .. oh, perhaps a day or two, and then you’d try breaking the deal.” she cocked her head to one side. “And furthermore, as I have already said a few times now, Sam is not available for trade, deals, payments or whatever else. Private tender only. So, if you will excuse me gentlemen, I have some business to attend to.”

They didn’t move. Her eyes rose again, and this time they had the calm dangerous air within them.

“This discussion is over. Please do not force me to throw you out. You will find that I can throw quite a distance.”

And with that, their one and only plan fizzled out entirely.

*

It felt like another day and a half before someone came to get him, and by that time Sam had been wondering whether the whole thing was still on or whether it had just been some weird hallucination. His body might have been healed but he was dazed, hungry and confused, and Sam had genuinely thought he was losing his mind. He was also hungry enough that any bowl of stew would have been welcome, regardless of the song and dance it took to earn it. How long had it been since he’d eaten? It felt like months. Felt like _years_

The interruption to his day had brought with it a collar and chain which had been forced around his neck and adjusted to ensure that it dug into his skin if he looked down. They hadn’t bothered to do anything about the scruffs, bruises and cuts on his skin, but then Sam hadn’t really expected anything. At least they were all visual only; walking into this with the original aches and pains was definitely not a happy thought.

And now he was being led somewhere, down a corridor that seemed strangely lop-sided and through a door which led to yet another corridor. Sam stumbled and was yanked upright by the chain, his eyes flashing for a moment before falling into line. On and on they walked, turning this way and that, before heading through another door and into a cooler rush of air and - thankfully - carpet. This place was a damned maze.

Sam had been attempting to look around him when he almost collided with the creatures in front who had stopped dead. And dead it really was; it was as though they were both frozen, slightly odd postures with no movements whatsoever. Sam blinked at them. Was that good? He didn’t know anymore.   
“Still perfectly still for your own sake. _I mean it_ ” Came a familiar voice, and the words were casual but Sam could still hear the hint of tension behind them. Sam froze in place. Who knew what the hell would be set off.

There was a soft sigh.

“Okay, not _that_ still. Just don’t move your feet.” the Trickster appeared at the corner of his vision and gave him a small wave. “Hi.”

Okay. Well, this wasn’t necessarily bad but it still needed a lot of work before it could be classified as good. 

“Uh. Hi.” World was crazy. Best to go along with it.

Gabriel moved a little closer and started to study the hard collar around Sam’s neck, giving it a little poke with a finger as though checking its strength.

“So. I’m willing to bet you’re wondering what’s going on, so this is the part of the movie where there’s a bit of conversation and everyone’s set on the same page and then we go and save your cute little ass from .. well, there’s a variety of choices, and most of them are pretty bad.” 

That sounded a fair plan, although Sam might well be biased on that. He gave a solemn nod as though he had any idea of what was happening and then looked down at his feet which were clearly on a slightly different colour carpet. 

“Why do I have to stay on this patch of carpet, exactly?”

“Good question. It’s the only slice I could find outside of their influence, so all my little strengths and powers are back up to zap power. God knows why, might be a break in the interface, might be some weird carpet shampoo that reacts badly to them.” Gabriel rubbed his chin with a finger. “Fairies are tricky. Magic’s not the most straight forward of things at the best of time, but they kinda mess it up further, wrapping it in laws and customs and making things really fucking annoying. I’ve got a few powers but nothing I want to put faith in. Trying to vanish you somewhere might turn you into a dog at the other end, which would be adorable but not exactly what we’re going for.”

“So fairies got me.” Sam repeated slowly. That kinda made sense, in a weird fucked up way. 

“Yeah. Some people said they’d die for a perfectly mixed cocktail and they kinda saw an opportunity. Hospitality’s a bitch.” Gabriel shrugged. “Still, there’s always ways out of this type of thing. They owe me one already, and I’m bound to have something they’d want, especially if you’re an awkward slave. It’ll be fine.”

The Trickster’s reassurance wasn’t at its normal level of confidence. Oh good. The weird fucked up way was too fucked up even for Gabriel. That was not encouraging.

Sam eyed him. “But you’re worried about this, aren’t you.”

“Well…,” Gabriel dragged out the word then sighed. “... okay, a bit. A smidgeon, if you will. Don’t get me wrong, I’d be fine, but you’d be fucked multiple ways here to kingdom come. Best not to mess it up, really.”

Sam thought about that. “Not that I’m complaining-,”

“Actually, you are, could you not just take a gift and not bitch about it?”

“- but _why_ are you so invested in saving me?” Sam asked slowly. Gabriel sucked some air through his teeth in thought, almost certainly deciding on which excuse to fall onto. Sam reckoned he’d probably never hear the true reason for whatever this was, but Gabriel was right in his way not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Right at this point, whatever Gabriel had planned for him was almost certainly better than the alternative.

“I guess it’s similar to getting your favourite tv channel cancelled.” he said finally. “You boys are always so entertaining, and so inventive for getting yourselves into new amounts of trouble. I’d miss you if you went.”

Sam wouldn’t want to put money on it, but there did seem to be a slightly wistful tone to the last part. Perhaps they had accidentally obtained a fan during their times of chaos.

“And you’re the archangel Gabriel.” Sam said slowly, trying out the words and still finding them difficult to comprehend.

“Yea… oh, had you not realised?” Gabriel looked genuinely surprised. “Shit. Um. Well, surprise?”

“ _Gabriel_.” Sam repeated, incredulously. There was a small eye roll from someone who had clearly been through this before and was keen not to continue.

“Yes. The handy guy who steers shephards where they’re supposed to be because the stupid idiots couldn’t read a fucking map. That Gabriel. And no, I’m not taking any more questions on that. Can we keep to the current plot, please? Honestly, I’m amazed you and your brother don’t just die from natural causes. You’re an evolutionary cul-de-sac.” 

Sam found himself grinning at the grumble and held his hands up as though signalling peace. 

“Fine. Okay.” he promised. “Won’t mention it again.”

Gabriel eyed him for a moment but Sam appeared to pass the sincerity check and the archangel relaxed a little more. 

“So, much as this hallway is lovely, let’s get onto business.” he clapped his hands together. “This is not exactly what I’d hope for on a first date, but there we go. Objective for today is to convince everyone that this is not the first time we’ve done this, and I can then resolve the negotiations afterward. Now, I’m pretty good at convincing if I do say so myself, but I don’t normally perform with other people. We need to get on the same page for this. I also imagine we’d get more credit if it’s entertaining. ”

Sam gave a little nod, although his brow was furrowed. “Define entertaining. That guy seemed to get off on blood.”

“He does, but thankfully he also gets off on rare artefacts and is really, _really_ bad at cards. Think of him like one of those collectors who pay fortunes for shiny cards or whatever,” Gabriel replied cheerfully. “Don’t worry, I want you in one piece as much as you do.”

“So, what? You’re going to beat me?” a smile hovered on Sam’s lips. “Get in line.”

“Tempting, tempting, but no. Hitting you is easy. Yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir. No, what we need is a bit of _performance_.” there was a little movement of the hands that suggested a Ta-da! moment.

Sam digested that. “We’re not going to dance, are we?” 

“No. Which part of this situation suggests dancing to you?” Gabriel gave him a funny look. “No, Sammy, we’re going to go with dog training.”

There was another pause as Sam replayed those words in his head. No, it wasn’t really helping.

“Dog training.” he repeated, slowly.

“Dog training.” Gabriel confirmed.

Sam frowned. “Uh. That’s not much better than dancing. And I don’t actually know what you mean, either. Fetching a ball?”

“Following orders. If I tell you to sit, you sit. Kneel, you kneel. Crawl, you.. Oh, you get it, I’m sure.” Gabriel paused and looked uncomfortable for a moment, which was a novel expression for him. “Might need to get a little … personal to emphasize this is a relationship and not just something anyone could do, though.”

The look on his face was almost adorable. Clearly Gabriel didn’t do sheepish that often, and it showed. Sam blinked at him, and then found a grin lifting the corner of his mouth.

“And by personal you mean sexual?” Sam guessed.

“Again, not a personal choice.” Gabriel was quick to get that in. “Sex is .. well, sex is sacred to a certain extent and excusing the drama. And I’m not talking about doing it in some strictly regulated manner or with the lights off or anything like that, just needs to be .. willing. Forced sexual activities just don’t have the flavour, and are generally after something else anyway.”

Hmm. Sam raised an eyebrow. “You forced me and my brother-,”

“Oh, I did not.” Gabriel replied, slightly bitter from the accusation. “Both of you wanted it badly, and fine, I might not have known how badly before we did it, but it all worked out in the end. Did you not notice that neither of you even bothered to look for alternative options? I told you before, both of you have a horrible habit of only doing things when it’s life and death.”

“And this?” 

“This? Sure, you’re forced, but it’s not me who put you in that position. And you don’t have to go through with it. Stay with the fairies, get sold. See how that works out for you.”

They studied each other, both with a slightly sullen expression on their faces and Gabriel with his arms crossed. Finally, the archangel sighed.

“Look, Sammy, I haven’t got many options here. I like you, but I can’t rock the boat too much with the fae. Their strength is both impressive and complicated. I don’t need extra complications in my life, especially with a group who ‘play’ by twisting people’s arms from their sockets just to see how far said arms will go before they rip off. There’s only so many creatures you want after you, something that you and your brother could benefit from learning.” Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “So. What’s it going to be?”

A good question. Sam hesitated, then looked up at him. “Do you have any suggestions of more … uh, elaborate moves?”

Gabriel’s grin widened. “Ah, Sammy,” he drawled. “I thought you’d never ask.”

*

“I don’t know what to do.”

The words were uncertain but they were true enough. They’d tried the official route, and normally that simply meant that they went for the less orthodox - ie criminal - route next, but how could he get Sam back from somewhere that no one could trace? Within a few days Sam could be sold to someone or something or somewhere and if they were lucky he’d end up somewhere that Castiel could sense him. If not? If not they didn’t have any leads, any place to start looking. At least with hell it didn’t just walk off, it was just fucking scary to get into.

At this point Castiel would normally make some top level statement of getting him back, but even the angel was silent, unable to even grunt. Dean closed his eyes wearily. Fantastic. And they hadn’t even stopped the damned event from sucking up more folk. They’d lost Sam for no fucking reason whatsoever, and that hurt more than he’d believed possible.

“Dean.” 

Dean growled and rubbed his forehead with the ball of his palm angrily. There had to be some sort of deal, or payment, or spell, or ritual or _something_ -

“ _Dean_!” his name was hissed with a solid underlying ‘ignore me at your peril’. Growling softly but defeatedly, Dean opened his eyes and glanced at his Would Be Dominant, who appeared to be looking at something over his shoulder. He frowned and then followed the gaze. 

“Is that…?” he turned, bewildered for a moment before finding a whole new level of anger. “Is that the trickster god?”

“That,” said Castiel grimly. “Is Gabriel.”

“Yeah, I …. Wait, what?” Dean re-engaged his brain. “As in the archangel Gabriel? The one everyone actually knows to a certain extent? _That_ Gabriel?”

“Yes.” Castiel paused and then frowned. “Why does everyone know Gabriel?”

“He’s in a lot of carols. Often with sheep.”

“What is he doing with the sheep at the time?” Castiel asked carefully, then shook his head. “No. Enough. That’s not the point. The point is he is here, and he is .. unexpected. I had thought him dead.”

“Apparently death didn’t agree with him.” Dean replied grimly, moving to go when he discovered his arm was captured again. “Cas, _let me go_.”

Cas’ gaze slowly moved from Gabriel to Dean with silent menace. There was a pause.

“Let me go, _please_ ,” Dean amended. “Sir.”

Jesus, Cas was getting far too good at that. Dean held his gaze and fought the ridiculous desire to look away, before growling softly and doing so anyway. 

“Just watch.”

Just watch? This was a terrible plan. It wasn’t even a plan, it was apathy. Blatantly clear if Trickster was here then something crazy had happened, and what were the odds of him suddenly deciding to take up a kink hobby right at this moment? Dean scowled but the hand was still on his arm and it was communicating a lot of silent instruction that was difficult to resist. Perhaps he was going crazy as well.

His gaze turned back to the figure again, who was casually strolling into the ballroom as though merely popping in for tea and a light snack. His trousers were a golden green and he was bare chested, looking all the world like some sort of half-assed traditional genie of the lamp. Dean’s eyes narrowed, although his growl had to die off again as Castiel squeezed his arm pointedly. Okay, okay. Fuck sake.

Grumbling under his breath, Dean settled down for a mighty five minutes before his teeth were so clenched that he was in danger of breaking a molar. The guy was sauntering around without a care in the world, and fuck, he was going to _destroy_ him. How, again, was a problem for another minute. For now? Just destruction.

Castiel leaned a little closer, his eyes watching Gabriel as he did so.

“If you do not stop growling and misbehaving you will be severely punished.. Do you understand?”

And that should have been ridiculous, only the tone and the message found a whole new sincerity. Dean scowled for a moment and quietened down, glowering. 

“Good.” Castiel lifted his head and watched again. Dean suddenly felt the hand on his arm grow tighter again, painfully so.

“Hey, I didn’t even do….,” he trailed off at the next person through the doors. “... anything.”

It was Sam. Well, a battered and beaten version of Sam, anyway. He was escorted through by a couple of venue staff, naked and with a collar that looked damned painful, and a slightly haunted expression that made Dean’s stomach sink. He tried to scramble to his feet but Castiel’s grip kept him in his place, the angel’s attention so firmly fixed on the scene it was like a cat in the final stages of a hunt.

The room had slowly opened up, small groups realising that perhaps something was different about this entrance, and it was into this that Sam all but staggered. Dean opened his mouth to call out then hesitated again as Sam lifted his head and looked toward Gabriel who had stood himself to one side. And then.. smiled.

Yeah, Dean was going crazy. Must be. Had to be. But no, Sam was smiling, a warm, thankful smile as though he was cold and Gabriel had offered him a warm coat. Dean watched wordlessly as the chain was released and Sam moved toward him, dropping to his knees in front of Gabriel smoothly and bowing his head before looking up with adoring eyes.

“...what?” Dean whispered. “Cas..,”

Castiel said nothing, although his body moved a little closer to Dean’s protectively. There was a noisy part of Dean that was irritated, just wanting to break free and rescue his brother from whatever the hell this was. There was another part, a guilty part, that was grateful for the comfort. Dean glanced across at the angel wordlessly, looking for a plan if he was planning to lie to himself or reassurance if he wasn’t, and met a steady but intense look coming the other way.

Dean took a deeper breath of air and then looked back again at his brother and his keeper. Truth be told, Castiel’s calm solemnity was part of the reason he was so damned relaxing. He might be confused on occasion, he might need to plan and to readjust expectations, but Castiel lead and he was passionate in what he believed in and sometimes, just sometimes it was nice having someone who was confident in the orders they gave. He was fed up with multiple choice questions.

Saying that, this was going to take a lot of reassurance to make him believe this was anything but bad. 

“You do not have to watch.” Castiel murmured.

“Oh, I do.” Dean’s voice was low and rough and barely formed in words. If Sam was going through with this, then the least Dean could do was watch. Still, Cas moved a little further as though to give him a natural block if he wished to take it up, and Dean felt a little grateful thump in him at that kindness. 

Sam hadn’t moved from his position on his knees. His position was eager, back arched prettily that made his ass even more shapely and his pose deliberately chosen to enhance his muscular frame. The bruises and cuts only served to illustrate the appeal, the rough with the smooth that added such a fierce beauty to the scene.

Fuck, he’d better stop thinking thoughts like that. Anyone would think he wrote fucking poetry.

He felt Castiel’s hand on his arm tighten slightly as Gabriel finally stood, a clear performer who was more than happy with his audience despite the fact he was deliberately ignoring the interested looks aimed in their direction. A little smile as he gently rested his hand on Sam’s head and stroked him gently before slowly and confidently walking around him with the clear dramatics of ‘inspecting his pet’. Dean really, really wanted to kill him. 

“What is this?” Gabriel spoke as he ran his fingers down a battered bicep, and again it was pure theatre. Dean’s teeth were not going to last the grinding, he could feel it now. “Not taking care of yourself again? This is why you shouldn’t run off, sweetheart. You always get yourself into trouble.”

“I’m sorry, master,” Sam’s voice was soft but still clear, and with no hesitation whatsoever. 

“They’ve brainwashed him. Zapped his senses.” Dean growled softly, then caught Castiel’s glare coming at him and shushed without the threat needing to be verbalised. Severely punished. Got it. Still, a man had limits.

Gabriel was apparently going to push them so hard they’d probably break the speed barrier as the archangel made a humming noise and cupped Sam’s cheek in his hand gently.

“I’m sure you are. What am I to do with you?”

There was a muffled shout from somewhere in the room which was clearly obscene, and Dean was adding to his list of People To Murder. Apparently the archangel felt the same. Gabriel cast a critical look in the direction the voice had come from, and the little murmur of talk died down in the face of such displeasure. Apparently that look was an angel thing, he’d seen Cas perform it on a regular basis, and often aimed at him.

“I don’t take kindly to interruptions. Take the hint before I make you explode, okay?”

His announcement to the ruder members of the audience over, Gabriel returned his attention to his pet. His hand trailed from Sam’s face and Sam immediately kissed the passing fingers as best he could, licking the tips with his tongue as eagerly as any puppy. The expression was still a happy one even with a cut on his lip and a bruised eye, and Gabriel allowed the affection before he stepped back to his chair and sat down.

“There is a crop over there, standing by the table.” he said carelessly. “Go get it for me. Hands and knees, of course.”

Sam bowed his head and moved forward slightly to kiss Gabriel’s foot briefly, before he aimed another smile at the archangel and began to prowl toward the crop. And prowling was the best word for it, Dean reckoned; Sam’s long limbs and flexible form turned what was normally an embarrassing scuttle into a lazy, casual slink to the table where he picked up the crop from the middle with his mouth. 

“Take the long way back,” came the instruction from the chair, again just as lazy, as though the pair had all the time in the world. 

Stretching slightly, Sam lifted his head and stared around the room through the usual strands of brown hair that flopped across his eyes. Dean had to confess he looked pretty damned good, the confidence and carelessness giving him an air of power that really shouldn’t have existed with a naked man on his hands and knees crawling around a floor. Who knew.

The act of crawling didn’t leave much to the imagination, of course. Muscles rippled with the movement, but it was the view from the rear that was the real show stopper and Dean found himself having to look away for reasons he didn’t even understand. Felt wrong, like a stolen peek, and that was crazy considering he was actually sleeping with him. But still, nothing in this whole thing made sense, there was no reason why that bit would. And Dean was pretty damned certain that a large percentage had now got the idea of fucking Sam in their mind, even in the very unlikely situation they hadn’t at the start.

Sam had chosen a longer circular route that prowled past the watching audience like a tiger in a zoo. Dean swallowed and moved a little, waiting to see whether Sam would look their way. And he did. The faintest hesitation in Sam’s movements as their eyes met, Sam’s widening in surprise and growing uncertain briefly before he shook it off and continued on his journey. 

And that felt like a stab to the heart. Okay, there was almost certainly a plan, but when the hell did his head ever decide to listen to reason? 

“Trust him.” Castiel murmured in his ear and Dean wanted to scream something back, something rude and loud and probably unfair and possibly drink something - jesus, he needed a drink! - but the angel’s hand on his arm and his body still pressed up against him managed to ground him further.

Okay, okay, trust him. Of course. What else would he do with his half man, half cat brother who was suddenly the boytoy of everyone’s favourite archangel? Heaven forbid. Actually, heaven probably had, but when had that stopped anything?

Sam had reached his destination and was waiting, still on hands and knees, with the crop held neatly in his mouth as though he was planning to do that all night. 

“Good boy,” Gabriel murmured, and stretched forward to take the riding crop from Sam’s mouth. Idly flexing it between his hands and giving the palm of his hand a little swipe, mostly for the sound effects, the archangel stretched in his chair and surveyed the room casually. It wasn’t quite an audience surrounding them, but Dean could see that most of the little groups were watching in fascination, some playing in their own little groups as though Sam was their personal real life porn supply.

“Dean, I know you have questions but you _must_ remain silent.” Castiel was already anticipating the explosion that Dean was more than happy to make. Dean glowered again, and found himself pressing up against Cas’ body a little more in comfort. The angel took this touch stoically, his hand still on Dean’s arm anchoring him. 

Standing again, Gabriel began to prowl around the prone man, allowing the leather tip of the riding crop to trail over Sam’s shoulder and back as he did so, delicately running it down Sam’s flank and making his eyes closed. Dean knew how sensitive his brother could get and could already anticipate the little shiver of delight, the need burning in Sam, and was horrified to note that his brother was already half hard as it was. 

A gentle but noisy slap against Sam’s backside made Dean jump, knowing that the impact was pretty much nothing in comparison to their day to day job but hating the implications anyway.

“Present.” Gabriel made an instruction and apparently Sam knew exactly what this meant as he shifted position into what looked like some weird yoga shit position; his back was arched a little more to produce a beautiful line from the nape of his neck to his already perky ass, his legs widened a little more for what was clearly an access thing and his arms equally bracing for whatever came next. If cat-men-sex-folks had heroic poses that looked good, this was it. Nothing to the imagination whatsoever and looking annoyingly good. How the hell was he supposed to protect his brother with him looking like man’s gift to sex in front of a bunch of supernatural perverts?!

Gabriel was wandering around lazily as Sam did so, partly to illustrate his little act and partly, Dean reckoned, to avoid blocking anyone’s view to Sam. His brother’s head was raised, his eyes closed and breathing calm as he waited for more instructions.

Where the hell did Sam learn this?! Dean growled internally, although settled slightly as Castiel’s other hand began to stroke his back gently to ease out the clear tension in his body. That was his brother. _His_. The only person who should be doing something crazy and sexual to him was Dean himself, and he’d ignore how fucked up that thought was right now.

It was clear that the main people that Gabriel was making The Point to were the waiting staff at the side. Every so often there was a small, pointed look in their direction, as thought to say ‘See?’, before the archangel looked back at his charge with a proud smile.

“Good boy.” he said again as he returned to Sam, running his hand over the flop of hair and ruffling it affectionately. Gabriel cast his gaze critically over Sam’s form and gently ran the crop over Sam’s left thigh, giving it a sharp tap to move it back a little more in line. A further tap smacked against Sam’s ass, making a light red line appear from where it struck but fading soon afterward. Sam himself hadn’t moved, unconcerned about what was happening to his rear.

“Please, master.” Sam spoke up, and Dean could have sworn he saw a flicker of surprise cross Gabriel’s face. It was soon gone, of course. The expression grew thoughtful.

“That depends.”

“I have been good.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow and studied him, before raising the crop and gently bringing the tip across Sam’s face, along his cheekbone and then down gently. Sam continued to stare at him without flinching.

“I guess you have.”

They stared at each other for a short time, almost oblivious to their surroundings, before Gabriel chuckled and tossed the crop to one side carelessly as he returned to the chair and sat down. A small gesture of the hand and Sam grinned again before prowling forward and sitting back on his knees as he stretched toward Gabriel’s crotch.

Dean felt sick. He couldn’t watch this and yet he was almost unable to look away, feeling like the worst brother in the history of worst brothers, and given the Old Testament list of brotherly issues that was pretty damned big. The hand on his arm gave him a gentle but persistent tug and Dean finally glanced away to glance at Castiel’s solemn but concerned expression.

“Come sit over this way.” The instruction was made gently but firmly, suggesting that any answer other than ‘yes’ was going to meet up with issues. Dean stared at him for a moment and then glanced back at his younger brother who was clearly giving the Archangel fucking Gabriel head. Gabriel’s hand rested lightly in Sam’s brown locks and a pleased look on his face, and Dean had never wanted to punch anyone more.

“Dean.” Cas’s voice was still soft but sharper. Dean looked back at him a little wretchedly, mumbled ‘sorry’ and shifted to where the angel had indicated. He could still see the activity but it was now behind one of the large potted plants that were scattered here and there to give the illusion of more discreet places without actually making them discreet.

Castiel captured his jaw gently but firmly and brought his attention away from the incident occurring so damned close. 

“Focus on me.”

“I should be helping him.”

“For whatever reason, Sam seems perfectly content where he is. Trust him.” Cas studied him. “In a fight in this place, you would not win.”

“Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t give it a go.”

“Yes. Yes, it does. That is exactly what it means.”

Dean growled softly and glanced back at the scene again. Sam was still on his knees, his head still working away with little tell-tale bobs, and Gabriel had lost his need for smart ass commentary. Finally there was a soft noise and Sam’s head paused, the archangel’s hand gripping him a little harder before relaxing again in his clear climax. 

Dean closed his eyes. Fuck.

The only good part of the damned thing was that it seemed to be the end of it; Sam sank back onto his knees, licking his lips, and Gabriel gently ruffled his hair again before standing up and giving another pointed look toward one of the staff members.

“Shall we talk terms?” Gabriel spoke, and then walked out.

And that, apparently, was that.

*  
An hour later and they’d done it.

There was a flash and Sam was suddenly outside, and cold air had never felt so good. Sam breathed in, felt the ground beneath his feet and the sheer space around him, before giving a soft laugh of delight. It was dark, it was dingy, he was still naked but he was _free_ , and Gabriel was taken by surprise as his starting conversation was torpedoed by the fact that Sam had given him such a large hug that the archangel’s feet had briefly left the floor.

“I’m gonna take that as a ‘you’re pleased’,” Gabriel commented as soon as Sam had let him go, although there was a pleased grin on his own features.”Oh. Hang on.”

A blink of an eye later and Sam was wearing pants again, although still shirtless. Still, nipples were a small price to pay for soft fabric against him, and Sam almost hugged him again. Man, he felt almost drunk. Actually, he wanted to be drunk. And fed. Jesus, he needed to be fed.

“Uh, can you… do me another favour?” Sam pulled a little face, not certain what the reaction would be. Gabriel raised an eyebrow and laughed.

“Sammy boy, you’ve just given me one of the best blow jobs this century. What are you after?”

“Kinda really, _really_ hungry.” Sam realised his expression was slightly pitiful but didn’t care. Gabriel’s expression was surprised, then a flash of irritation crossed in his eyes, although Sam was pretty sure it wasn’t at him.

“Oh fuck, yeah, sorry. I’d assumed they’d fed you. Here.” 

Sam suddenly found himself sitting on a small battered brick wall nearby, regaled by a bottle of water, a pot of what turned out to be warm tomato soup, and a small pack of chocolate chip cookies by his feet. He was into the soup in less than five seconds, having to break for a moment for more air before taking another couple of mouthfuls.

“Hey, hey, steady.” Gabriel waved him down a bit. “I’ve not come all this way only to have you drown yourself in soup. You’ll be sick.”

Sam tried to slow down a bit but his stomach was definitely not keen on this suggestion. Eventually he had to pause for a little more oxygen, licking his lips to avoid looking too much like a tomato vampire as he looked back at Gabriel who was still watching him with the soft expression of one viewing a bundle of puppies. 

“Thank you,” Sam said softly. “How much did it cost you in the end?”

“Pft,” Gabriel shrugged. “Ancient artefact. Saving it for a rainy day, and apparently it’s raining men instead. Hallelujah.”

Sam watched him a little more thoughtfully. Ancient artefacts could be anything, and were normally pretty costly. Gabriel apparently noticed the look and rolled his eyes slightly.

“Not saying I’m going to do it every day, so don’t get dewy eyed. Bit of a business deal, nothing more.”

“Really?” Sam’s tone didn’t hide his disbelief on that. Sure, advantages were good, but he was pretty damned sure he wasn’t the equivalent of that price. Gabriel made another pft type of noise and waved that off.

“Look, at most I’m creatively exaggerating. There is no catch to this, which is a novel experience for me I can tell you.” the archangel studied Sam’s expression and frowned a little. “And why do you have that look on your face?”

“Just wondering why you haven’t vanished off in the puff of non blue smoke,” Sam replied idly and with no accusation in his voice. Gabriel looked faintly uncomfortable.

“Well, there’s no point in saving you if you’re only going to die in a parking lot immediately after.”

“So you’re getting me home safe?” Sam grinned at him. “My hero.”

“Well, that’s one way to put it. Have some water, Sammy. You’re probably dehydrated.” Gabriel gestured to the bottle of water with the overly casual manner of one who was keen to both avoid the conversation and thinking about the implications. Sam grinned again and obediently moved to the water, opening it and taking a few small sips as his gaze remained on the archangel.

“You don’t believe me, do you,” Gabriel spoke after a while, a little glumly. 

“Experience suggests I probably shouldn’t.” Sam agreed. “But I’m still grateful, regardless of the reasoning. I just can’t.. I don't know why you’ve done it. There’s got to be other entertaining people out there at a cheaper price.”

“I don’t want other entertaining people, Sam. I want you.”

The bottle of water paused mid-drink, Sam’s eyebrows rising a little at that. Clearly that was more dramatic than Gabriel had been planning, who looked awkward and then made another dismissive hand gesture which again seemed out of place. 

“Okay,” Gabriel carried on. “That probably came out wrong. Not trying to be a stalker here.”

Based on past meetings Sam wasn’t sure whether the stalker angle didn’t stick, but it certainly could be worse. He finished taking a mouthful of water and slowly screwed the lid back on as he studied him.

“So are they right? You view me as your pet?” he was curious. 

“Sammy, you’re thinking too much into this.” Gabriel shook his head. “Have a cookie.”

Sam had a cookie. It was a good cookie, and a well needed cookie, but it did not provide any further information other than the fact that archangels made good cookies. He chewed a bit more before swallowing and brushing off a few rogue crumbs from his mouth.

“I don’t mind, you know.” he said slowly. “If it is a pet thing. I just .. I guess I just want to know. Most of my life has been bouncing from one thing to another, and it’s pretty rare I ever know the actual reason until much later. People keep giving me excuses or fake stories to protect me. I don’t want to be protected.”

“Other than in there, they were going to fuck your shit up.” Gabriel felt it prudent to clarify. Sam had to concede the point.

“Yeah, true. Okay, other than the ‘saving my ass’ situations, I don’t want to be protected. And I’d much rather an angel on my team than you watching me because.. I don’t know, I have special type of blood or something. If you want something like that, tell me and I’ll find a way to give it to you without the smoke and mirrors.”

“Sam, people can do things for you because they like you and not just because they want something.”

“Think we both know that no one really does anything for free.”

Gabriel sighed and rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. People can do things for the non-scary reasons. They might like your company, or perhaps want the opportunity to study your ass a bit more. But that type of thing works better _if you are not dead_.” there was a pause and an incredulous look. “Why am I even going into this?”

“Because it makes me happy and you like making me happy.”

“Oh, don’t push it, kiddo. There’s a point where I’d be happy to put you over my knee myself.” Brief pause. “If I work out the logistics of that, you’re the size of a moose.”

Sam chuckled. “Duly noted. Sorry, master.”

“I should think so too. Be nice to your hero.” Gabriel paused and then frowned at him. “So, how much damage did they do?”

“Mmmgh?” Sam was back into the cookies again, and it took him a while to work out who ‘they’ were. “Does it matter? You healed me up.”

“I healed your body. Minds are harder.”

“Oh.” Sam was faintly surprised that the archangel cared about that part, but that was sweet in many ways. Still, the prospect of going through recent events was not an appealing task. He pulled a small face. “Do I have to talk about it?”

“Not if you don’t want to. Just curious.” Gabriel was about to say something else when he hesitated, groaned softly and rubbed his temple with a finger.. “And it looks like my mind is about to be sorely tested. Your brother is approaching, and I would imagine he will be pissed with a capital P.”

“Dean’ll be fine.” Sam proclaimed, cookie crumbles falling to the ground. 

“Yeah, right.” Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Since when is Dean ever fine when it comes to you?” 

The archangel certainly had a point. Sam huffed a soft laugh and shook his head.

“Okay, fair enough. Then just feed him pie. It’s amazing what you can get away with bribery.” And just the thought of pie had made his stomach rumble again, a wistful look on Sam’s face. Pie and cream. Any pie, any time. Gabriel eyed him and sighed.

“You’re a bottomless pit.” he commented. “And thank you for the advice. It might be one to try before I get to, I don’t know, locking him in a dungeon somewhere.”

Gabriel gave him a side grin at Sam’s alarmed look and gently ruffled his hair, before straightening his shoulders. Seconds later, Dean had burst around the corner, looking wild, still half naked, and just about ready to rip off heads. Sam glanced at him doubtfully. Okay, they might need more than pie if Dean was in this state.

“Sam!” Dean all but ran the last few steps, pulling Sam into a deep hug that he went willingly into, his forehead pressed against his brother’s shoulder and breathing in a scent that he was scared he’d never smell again. Been too long, far too long, and he tightened the hug automatically until he heard a soft whimper from his brother. Whimper? Sam pulled back slightly to look at him in confusion, before Dean offered a small, shaky smile.

“Ah, got a few bruises. It’s okay.” he explained as casually as he could. Sam looked at him again, and then made a little ‘turn around’ gesture with his finger. Ordinarily he had to wait until either the blood soaked through or they got undressed for bed, but today the tiny little shorts were a distinct benefit. Dean scowled slightly, but shifted position to show his back. Sam’s eyebrows rose in shock at the clear lines that criss crossed his brother’s skin, many of which continued under the belt of the shorts to indicate that the shorts had had a temporary holiday at some point.

“It was the price of the second day ticket,” Castiel explained in a matter of fact tone as Sam stared incredulously toward him.

“And it really doesn’t matter.” Dean added, turning back to square up to Gabriel who had found a reasonable place to perch. “What the fuck are you up to?”

A mild and fake look of surprise on Gabriel’s face at that.

“What, now? Sitting on a wall, talking to you.” A winning smile back. “Surprised you didn’t notice, really.”

Dean growled harder. “You know exactly what I mean!”

Gabriel held up his hand and whatever Dean was about to say suddenly went into silence as his voice cut out. Eyes widened for a moment as Dean tried to work out what had happened, before they turned back to sheer murder. Sam winced internally. They were definitely going to need a whole damned pie shop for this.

“Dean,” the archangel’s voice was sweet and charming. “you are adorable but the adults need to talk and you are well past your bedtime. Come along now.”

The explosion from Dean was put on pause as they suddenly found themselves back at the motel room, Dean with his back pressed against the headboard and Sam settled between his legs. Gabriel had already found a comfortable chair to lounge in, and Castiel was standing stiffly to one side looking as though everyone had just stolen his last cigarette. 

There was silence for a moment as minds readjusted to their new surroundings. Dean’s arm wrapped protectively around Sam, pulling him closer to him and pressing a kiss into messy hair as green eyes surveyed Gabriel carefully. Sam felt himself relax in the warmth of his brother’s embrace, head tilted back onto Dean’s chest and his eyes closing as the tension eased out of his muscles. 

Attention suddenly perked up as Gabriel gestured with a finger and a bag of burgers and fries suddenly materised in front of him. Sam’s stomach growled pitifully, and he was tomato deep in burger before the angel had even time to tell him to eat up. 

Castiel lifted his head and fixed Gabriel with the type of look that mothers possessed everywhere when they had entered a room and found it all but destroyed. 

“I believe an explanation is in order,” apparently the voice wasn’t much better, a disapproving tone although laced with curiosity. Gabriel eyed him and offered a lazy grin, gently swinging on the chair idly.

“Long story short, I saved the boy from a nasty fate. I’m a fucking superhero. Woo.” he glanced at Castiel’s expression and laughed softly again. “Yeah, okay, okay. I made a deal. They had some debt with me, and I had a snazzy little magic item that topped up the payment. Sam’s ownership moved to me.”

Sam was too busy in his food, but pushed himself back to all but pin Dean where he was. Dean’s voice might have gone but his need to make a statement hadn’t, and Sam had no doubt it would end up more physical than anyone needed to. 

Dean was fuming. His voice had gone, his brother was back but apparently more interested in the food than the situation, which was both annoying and worrying. He kept his arm wrapped protectively around Sam’s warm body as Dean watched the rogue element in the room who was still swinging carelessly on the chair like he was eight. 

“Why?” Castiel asked finally.

“Why? Because, my dear Castiel, it was the right thing to do.” Gabriel replied solemnly, then snorted. “I am able to do things because I’m nice, you know.”

“Possibly.” the angel allowed. “But that does not answer the question.”

There was a soft strangled noise of frustration from Gabriel, who pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers before letting them fall again.

“Because I didn’t want him to end up as one of those beaten servants in the fairy realm, or wherever they were going to sell him to. You know very well..” Gabriel trailed off as he remembered the other members of the room and gave a careful look toward the Winchesters   
where Sam had finished pretty much all of his burger and was onto the fries. “Sam, slow down. You’ll get indigestion. And Castiel? Outside.”

The angels vanished. Sam glanced up and finished chewing.

“Something I said?” he murmured to Dean, but Dean was still vocal-less and getting more agitated by the minute. First thing he was planning to do was to learn sign language, then he could curse even if Gabriel decided to switch off the volume. Was outside actually outside? He had to know. Squirming past his younger brother, pausing to give him a quick kiss on the cheek and earning himself a fond smile in return, Dean prowled to the window and lifted the curtains slightly to peer through it.

And there they were, still talking. Weird, sure, definitely suspicious, but Dean didn’t care. He turned to speak to Sam, opened his mouth and coudn’t even generate a squeak. Awesome. Rolling his eyes, Dean gestured the best he could about his eavesdropping plans. Sam gave him a dubious look back but shrugged and snuggled down on the bed, his eyes already closing in exhaustion. 

Slipping out the door and carefully closing it behind him, he prowled closer to the corner where the angels had decided to take their discussion. A couple of dustbins provided vaguely adequate cover, but the focus of his operation were not paying any attention to anything other than each other. 

“- and besides which, Sam is not yours.” Castiel had been saying, and the words were underlined with steel.

“Oh, come on. Keeping both of them for yourself is a little greedy, don’t you think?” Gabriel drawled. “Besides which, the older boy will keep you on your toes for years. He couldn’t follow an order if he was glued to it.” the archangel’s head tilted to one side in amusement. “But that’s part of his appeal, isn’t it? You like the rebellious ones.”

Dean could see Cas’ expression and it was pure murder, although granted that wasn’t exactly a rare expression. Dean edged a little closer as Gabriel gave a soft sigh and tried to lighten the mood with a smile. 

“Cas, think about it. They need protection. You take one, I take the other. Remember the good old days when we were all assigned particular humans to take care of? This is just a modern day traditional guardian angel task, with the added bonus we can gently thwack them if they get out of line rather than ‘strongly recommend’ things. It’s good for everyone.”

Castiel raised his chin defiantly. “You want to perform inappropriate things on him.”

“Damned right I do, and so would anyone who sees them. And that includes you, so don’t give me that high horse thing.” Gabriel made a soft snorting noise. “We’re all aware of your little bond with the elder boy. I have it with the younger one, and he’s fine with it. If he doesn’t want to do something then I back off, it’s that easy.”

Doubt was etched on Cas’ brow as though a small child had gone a bit beserk with a magic marker. 

“I know, I know, I don’t normally go for boys, not after that whole ancient greece thing. But they’ve got an appeal I can’t resist.” Gabriel mused with a small shrug. “Are you saying you don’t know what I’m talking about?”

Dean watched the flickers of emotion cross Cas’ face, uncertain, determined and then back again. Gabriel surveyed him and then grinned.

“Yeah, I thought so. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Dad wanted us to love his creations, and here we are, taking him very literally. It’s almost our solemn duty.”

The look on Cas’ face indicated that Gabriel wasn’t so much pushing it as shoving it off a cliff. Another soft huff of laughter, and the archangel smiled back at him. 

“Cas, it’s okay. Honest. You’re allowed to feel sometimes.” he said softly. “Even soldiers have to have some downtime, and you need to have something you’re fighting for. The world is just too big. You’re chopping it up into bite sized pieces instead.”  
“Is this actually a concern for my personal position or just an appropriate argument?” Castiel eyed him. Gabriel thought about that, and made a weighing gesture with his hands.

“Bit of part A, bit of part B.” he replied. “And also for consideration is the fact that both boys are constantly balls deep in trouble with the supernatural elements, so you could almost write them off as a business expense.”

Castiel folded his arms and frowned a little harder.

“I do not like this.” 

“Cas, you generally don’t like anything.” 

“That’s not true,” Cas lifted his head and fixed Gabriel with a dedicated stare. “I am particularly fond of toffee apples, feather beds and Brooklyn 99.”

“Well, that was strangely specific, but that sounds fair enough.” Gabriel offered another lopsided grin.“This is a win, Cas. Don’t make things awkward where it doesn’t need to be. You know I’m not going to force anything out of the boy, and you know I will look after him.”

The angel was silent for a moment, clearly thinking, before raising his head again.

“ _Dean_ will not like this.”

Gabriel groaned softly.

“I was wondering when you’d bring him into the conversation. Dean’s a pain in the ass if he doesn’t get his own way, and if you have any sense you’ll bring him into line before he gets himself flayed alive.” Gabriel pointed out and raised both his head and his voice. “Isn’t that right, Dean?”

Ugh. Awesome. Dean’s eyes closed briefly, but by the lack of surprise on both angel’s faces it was pretty clear that they’d known his position a while back. Fine, he could deal with this. Growling, Dean pushed himself upright and walked into the little circle, flipping a finger toward Gabriel as he did so. The archangel chuckled.

“Oh yes, the voice. I’d almost forgotten.” 

Finally his voice was returned. Dean coughed, made a soft humming noise at the back of his throat as a tester, and then scowled harder.

“I thought you were watching Sam,” Castiel commented, slightly reproachfully.

“And leave you two out here to argue over our ownership?” Dean’s voice might be still gravelly but it did the job as he looked between them angrily. “We don’t belong to either of you.”

“You see?” Gabriel raised an eyebrow back at Castiel. “Bit of a troublemaker.”

“Bite me.” Dean snapped back. “Just because you got Sam back you think you own him?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, I don’t _own_ him. I try not to own anyone, it tends to be more trouble than it's worth. However, I am saying,” Gabriel’s eyes strayed to Castiel again, the clear target of his words. “I am prepared to offer more protection for him. I like him. I would prefer if he isn’t dead, or mangled, or non-consensually tortured, or upset.”

“We can look after ourselves.”

“I think the last few days have stressed the fact that you really, _really_ can’t.” Gabriel looked back at him sharply, and a look of irritation crossed his eyes. “There’s a saying that a man isn’t an island, and it’s fucking right. You need support. Not all the time, sure, but you need it. How many times have you asked Cas here for help? He’s like your damned babysitter as it is.”

“Screw you.”

“Well, that would be lovely but I suspect Castiel here might object.” Gabriel gave him a winning smile that had nothing to do with humour. The angel in question sighed deeply, but much to Dean’s annoyance immediately chose the wrong side to support.

“Dean. Enough.”

“And you don’t own me, either.” Dean snapped back at him. “Sure, we work well together, but that doesn’t give you the right to ..,”

He ran out of words. Gabriel listened politely

“Throw you against a wall and fuck you so hard that you’re whimpering and gasping for more?” he asked idly, then rolled his eyes at the two hard looks aimed at him. “It’s a suggestion, boys, calm down.”

“No, I mean, yes. But I meant tell me what to do.”

“There’s many things in this world that tell you what to do, Dean. Stop being naive.” Gabriel’s voice grew sharper. Castiel growled softly in warning, making a small step between them and fixing a hard look on Gabriel.

“I would suggest lowering your voice.”

“Oh, for the love of porn..,” Gabriel closed his eyes briefly as though this might give him strength, before opening them again and looking back at Dean. “Okay. You _are_ aware I could do anything I liked to you and your brother, right? It would be no trouble at all to strip you naked, have you on all fours sucking my cock whilst Cas here fucks you from the rear and-,”

There was a pause as Gabriel glanced up to see a middle aged woman clutching a bag of shopping to her chest as she stared at them. Dean suddenly recalled they were in a shadowy area of the motel parking lot, and it wasn’t necessarily the quietest time. 

“Ah. Hello! Lovely evening, isn’t it?” he gave a little wave and a smile and waited for her to slowly move on before turning back to the other two. “Perhaps we’d be better taking this inside.”

“Hell-,”

They were inside.

“...yeah.” Dean finished irritably. “You know, you could have waited until I’d finished.”

“You’re right, I could have.” Gabriel smiled back at him, although he was clearly getting irritated. Not that Dean cared what the archangel thought, of course. He immediately looked toward the bed where Sam was curled up asleep, a few rogue fries scattered around like takeaway shrapnel and the bag dropped to the floor. He sighed softly and moved across, gently removing the food and pulling a small blanket over his little brother. Finally he looked up again.

“Yeah, you could hurt us.” Dean said fiercely in a lower voice. “ But you won’t. And I’ll tell you something-,”

Or at least he had been planning to tell him something when suddenly his entire body locked in place, a word frozen in his mouth and his body rigid and unyielding. Gabriel growled and looked back at Castiel.

“How do you put up with this?! I’ve only spent twenty minutes with him and I want to shove him through a woodchipper! I don’t care how cute he is, there are limits.”

“Dean is concerned. He gets more aggravating when he’s concerned.” Castiel replied, unfolding his arms and moving toward Dean purposefully. Gabriel was not impressed.

“If you let him out and his behaviour isn’t improved then I _will_ take it out of his hide.” he warned. “We clear?” 

Cas’ eyes narrowed slightly but he tilted his head in acknowledgement, turning back to his charge and studying Dean carefully. Their eyes met in a silent display of instructions, and probably a minor reminder of what would happen if it didn’t occur. Severely punished. Yeah. Dean was planning to get that on a t-shirt. Dean growled internally but reluctantly held his tongue as Castiel’s fingers brushed lightly over his forehead to release him.

“We are clear,” Cas agreed, meeting Dean’s gaze again briefly before taking a small step away. Panting, Dean dropped slightly and glared hard at Gabriel who looked utterly unrepentant as the archangel moved purposefully to the curled figure of Sam on the bed. There was another small movement and the last few marks from Sam’s skin vanished, looking fresh and clean and still so damned innocent.

“Dean, I understand you’re protective. I do.” Gabriel spoke idly without looking back at Dean, his gaze still resting on the sleeping boy on the bed. “But you have to understand that you cannot protect him from everything. Fuck, _I_ can’t protect him from everything. But I am not going to hurt him.”

“And what does he think on this?” Dean challenged roughly. “What did you do to him?”

“Me? I haven’t done anything to him. It might have been a few days in your world but he’d been in that realm for a good .. oh, three weeks by the end of it. He was in pain and he was desperate and I couldn’t wait any further. If I could have bought him out straight away I’d have done so, but they wanted more proof that we knew each other. It was a means to an end, in a way, although one I’m not really going to object to.” Gabriel lifted his head and looked back at him. “And to clarify, I haven’t touched him sexually other than the stuff you witnessed at the club. Most of that was his idea, incidentally, I merely sowed the seeds.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed again. “I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t really care, but since you're his brother I guess I will have to be nice to you otherwise Sam gets that little pouty look.”

“You guys argue really loud, I’m not five.” Sam groaned from the bed, slowly pushing himself up and rubbing his eye with the back of a hand. “And I don’t have a little pouty look.”

“The current expression on your face suggests that this is incorrect,” Castiel commented.

Sam huffed softy and lowered his head sleepily to the mattress, re-snuggling into the bed and tiredly scanning the faces surrounding him. “What are you guys fighting about now?”

“Mostly you.” Gabriel replied. “Dean doesn’t think I’m suitable to be your fairy godmother.”

“Fairy godmother, huh?” Sam yawned and grinned sleepily. “Does that mean you’re going to wear sparkly dresses and turn pumpkins into coaches?”

“Depends what turns you on,” Gabriel watched him again, a little flicker of concern in his eyes. “And you’re tired. Go back to sleep, Sammy.”

Oh no, he wasn’t getting out of it that easy. 

“Sam,” Dean spoke, and his voice was rough and uncomfortable. “Did he do anything to you?”

“Nothing bad.” Sam mumbled. “Can this wait?”

“Nothing bad?! Sammy, you had his cock in your mouth!” 

“Yes, I know, I was there and I put it there, seriously Dean, stop.” Sam frowned at him, and then looked worried at the intense glare coming the other way. “I appreciate the concern, I really do, but it’s okay.”

Dean turned his head to find support and only found thoughtful eyes turned to him. Really? _Really _?! There were so many crazy things involved, sure, but this was .. surely this was something to fight against?__

__“You’re all insane,” Dean snapped, throwing up his hands and storming away from the bed._ _

__“Little firecracker, isn’t he?” Gabriel commented, cheerfully. “I don’t envy you, Cas, I really don’t.”_ _

__“And he is _not_ my owner or anything else!” snapped Dean, and instantly regretted it as a hurt look crossed Castiel’s face. The angel looked at the ground. Gabriel winced slightly and mouthed ‘ouch’, before leaning over and gently ruffling Sam’s hair affectionately. Dean growled again and closed his eyes, regaining his patience, before finally letting out his breath softly._ _

__“Okay. I didn’t mean that. Of course he’s..,”_ _

__The room waited politely. Dean looked uncertain, unable to work out the next words._ _

__“Uh.”_ _

__“It is alright, Dean. I did fail to protect you at the club, and for that I hold deep regret.” Castiel looked so sorrowful that Dean felt like he’d just kicked a whole litter of puppies and then squashed them with a boulder._ _

__“You didn’t, and I didn’t mean it like that,” he said hastily but it didn’t improve the sorrowful expression. Fuck. Biting his lip for a moment, Dean slowly moved back to the forlorn figure and gently brushed his hand over the now-overcoated arm of the angel. Their eyes met again, and Dean offered him a small little smile. For a moment there was a flicker of a small smile back in Castiel’s eyes before he looked a little shamefaced again, and, in true angel style, vanished._ _

__Dean’s eyes closed wearily. Yeah, he could have seen that one coming. When in doubt, disappear off to wherever it was that angels went to brood._ _

__“Cas, man, I’m sorry,” he sent up a small, quiet prayer but nothing. Wasn’t surprised. Probably wouldn’t see him for a while now, and Dean cursed at his phrasing. But what the hell was he supposed to have said?_ _

__“Did you just cockblock yourself?” came an amused voice from the bed, and Dean turned a seriously pissed look at the lone angel. Gabriel chuckled softly, ruffled Sam’s hair again and gave Dean a wink before vanishing after his heavenly colleague._ _

__“Fuck.” And that was very much meant. Dean moved back to the bed and sank down next to Sam, stroking his hand across his brother’s shoulder before pulling him into a tight hug. Sam squirmed slightly to allow himself enough room to breathe before tightening it further, nuzzling into the crook of Dean’s neck as he relaxed._ _

__“Why is everything so complicated?” he complained as he slowly guided them back to the bed, Sam’s head resting on Dean’s arm and their bodies tangling up together. Dean could feel the dull pain from where his bruises met the bed and felt worse than ever. Cas might have gone but his marks still remained to whisper bad things at him._ _

__“It’s okay. It’s Cas. He’ll be back.” Sam said reassuringly. Dean sighed and then glanced at him._ _

__“So... ,”_ _

__“I’m also okay, Dean.” Sam gently pressed a kiss to Dean’s cheek. “I swear.”_ _

__And ‘everyone okay, no issues here’ probably wasn’t going to do it. Dean hesitated again. In pain, Gabriel had said. Three weeks, he’d said. Desperate, he’d said. What the hell happened that had made a weird sex performance with a creature that had tried to fuck them over in the past seem like a good idea? Another trauma in a whole list of traumas, and Dean felt another stab of guilt to add to his already massive plateful. He really was bad at protecting his little brother, despite his efforts and pleas, and now he couldn’t protect his angel either. Life was shit._ _

__“D’you want to talk about it?” Dean knew his voice was a little rough. Sam paused and then shifted again, trying to find a comfortable spot that wasn’t likely to end up with pins and needles._ _

__“Prefer not to.” Sam offered an apologetic smile. Dean allowed the silence to lengthen for a bit before concern nagged at him again._ _

__“And you’re really okay with Tr… uh, Gabriel?”_ _

__Sam digested that. “Honestly? I don’t know. I don’t think he’s _bad_ , and he really does seem to want to protect me. But then he’s fooled me before. But what the hell would he get out of doing this?”_ _

__“Entertainment.” Dean said bitterly. “Close up of the drama. Decent blow jobs.”_ _

__“He could get most of that elsewhere for less price.” Sam frowned, then shrugged. “Hey. I’m not saying trust him. I’m just saying I’m not going to clutch pearls on it. He’s right, having an angel on your side is pretty good.” There was a little hesitation and a grin. “And my angel is bigger than yours. Magic wise, anyway.”_ _

__Ordinarily a tease would have worked but Dean had a whole lot of concern to get through right about now. Sam eyed the look aimed in his direction and gave a small huff of a laugh._ _

__“Dean. Seriously. It’s fine.” he watched his brother. “And he did save my life, pretty much.”_ _

__“Sammy, if we slept with everyone who saved our lives we wouldn’t get out of bed,” Dean objected. “Why aren’t you more freaked about this?!”_ _

__“I … well, I guess there’s bigger things to be freaked out about.” Sam said, almost in bewilderment. “I mean, I’m not mentioning anything about you and Cas.”_ _

__Dean’s mouth screeched to a halt. That felt like a low blow, even though he grudgingly accepted it was a fair comment. And fuck, he still really wanted to get back on prayer radio and attempt to explain the unexplainable. Sam waited patiently, although the point was clear._ _

__“You see?” he continued. “It’s fine for you to complain about me doing stuff, but when it comes to you? Oh no, that’s _perfectly_ fine.”_ _

__“We know Cas. He’s a friend,” Dean said roughly._ _

__“So’s Bobby. Wanna sleep with him too?” Sam huffed and rolled slightly onto his back so he could stare at the ceiling. “Dean, I’m not going to start arguing that you guys shouldn’t be together in some way. It’s sweet and to be honest Cas works well with you on the stuff I can’t give you. But don’t start thinking you’ve got a right to comment.”_ _

__“I’m looking after you.” Dean didn’t want to think about the other stuff. That was being shoved in a box deep in his mind and locked firmly until at least two bottles of vodka._ _

__“And I’m looking after myself. If I find anything to suggest Gabriel’s trying it on then I’ll do what needs to be done. But right now? We need all the help we can get. He might be arrogant and cocky and think he’s god’s gift to humour, but I’m pretty good at dealing with people like that.”_ _

__Dean’s eyes narrowed at that barb. “I love you too.”_ _

__“Good. Then come over here and give me a kiss before I punch you.”_ _

__“Fucking romance.” Dean grumbled softly and crawled after him, settling down next to his brother with a sigh and pressing a couple of kisses to Sam’s neck. Okay. Perhaps there was a chance, a _tiny_ chance that it might be fine, or at least something that he could put to one side until they’d rested up. The angels were gone, and he had his Sam back. Right at this point he could pretend all was well - or at least, not too bad - with the world._ _

__Sam smiled and drew the blankets over them, breathing in the scent of Dean’s hair._ _

__“And at some point you’re gonna have to tell me how it went with Cas,” he murmured softly, yawning widely._ _

__“No.” Dean said with feeling._ _

__“So we can’t do a threesome then?”_ _

__“No.” Pause. Rewind. Review. “Wait, _what?_ ”_ _

__But Sam was already asleep_ _

__END_ _


End file.
